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AUTHOR: 


WOOD,  WALTER 


TITLE: 


A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 


PLACE: 


LONDON 


DA  TE : 


1910 


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■J»'W^^ipyJt)^«|lll|   WJI   JLI 


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946.01 
W853  ' 


Wood,  Walter. 

A  corner  of  Spain,  by  Walter  Wood.  With  an  intro- 
duction by  Martin  Hume.  Illustrated  in  colour  and  line 
from  pictures  by  Frank  H.  Mason  . . .  and  with  numerous 
reproductions  from  photographs.  Now  York,  JrPott-and 
eompany-j  London,  E.  Nash,  1910. 

xii,  203  p.  incl.  11  illus.,  map.    col.  front,  27  pi.  (incl.  11  col.  pi.,  photos.) 


19i* 


D946.01 
Y/85 


i_. 


Copy  in  Barnard  College  Library*  New  York,  Pott. 

1.  Galicia,  Spain— Descr.  &  trav.        i.  Mason,  Frank  H.,  illus. 

Nj  A 10-1335*  Cancel 

Title  from  Lynn,  Mass.,  Pub.  Libr.    Printed  by  L.  C. 


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301/587-8202 


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A   CORNER 
OF    SPAIN 

BY    WALTER    WOOD 

WITH     AN     INTRODUCTION 

BY    MARTIN    HUME 


ILLUSTRATED  IN  COLOUR  AND 
LINE  FROM  PICTURES  BY 
FRANK  H.  MASON,  R.B.A. 
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PREFACE 

This  book  does  not  pretend  to  be  a 
history  or  a  complete  record  of  Galicia. 
Its  purpose  is  to  show  something  of  the 
life  and  character  of  a  little-known  part 
of  Spain,  and  to  deal  with  things  seen 
and  done  by  the  visitor  who  travels  under 
competent  and  comfortable  guidance.  I 
have  written  either  of  what  I  experienced 
or  on  the  authority  of  prominent  resi- 
dents with  whom  I  came  in  contact  in  my 
wanderings. 


Printed  by  Batxantyne  6^  Co.  Limited 
Tavistock  Street,  Covent  Garden^  London 


I 


Introduction 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  I , 
Galicia  and  Its  People 


Pp.  1-21 


The  Real  Galicia  :  The  Hundred  Maidens  :  The  Glory 
of  the  North- West  :  Granite  Hills  :  Gallegans  and 
their  Lives  :  Pigeon-cots  and  Maize-barns  :  The 
Night-watchman's  Chant  :  Civil  Guards  and  Con- 
stables :  A  Modest  Breaktast  :  Eating  and  drink- 
ing :  The  Waiter  as  a  Gentleman  :  Enterprise  and 
Open-air  Life  :  The  Blessed  "To-morrow"  : 
Cigarettes  :  The  Unexpected  :  Photography  :  Wine 
and  a  Bibber  :  Across  the  Biscay  Pp.  23-47 


CHAPTER  II 
Vigo  Bay  and  Hills 

Sun-bound  :  Sharp  Contrasts  :  Devil-fish  and  Ink-fish  : 
Sardines  :  A  Spanish  Infant  :  Vigo's  Enterprise  : 
The  Lazaretto  :  Treasure-ships :  A  Grandee's  Home  : 
A  Fishing-town  :  Memento  mori  :  Handling  Catches  : 
Clubs  and  Warships  :  A  Russian  Funeral  :  Emi- 
grants :  A  Valley  Town  :  The  Press  and  a  Distri- 
tributor  :  Borrow's  Vigo  Pp-  49-67 

•  • 

Vll 


viii  CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  III 

Spain's  Jerusalem 

Galicia's  Patron  Saint  :  Pilgrims  and  Pestilence  :  A 
Holy  City  :  A  Monumental  History  :  Noisy 
Students  :  The  Fascination  of  the  Cathedral  : 
Precious  Relics  :  A  Wealth  of  Silver  :  The  Compo- 
stella  :  St.  James's  Sepulchre  :  The  Gate  of  Glory  : 
The  Mighty  Censer  :  Religious  Festivals  :  Our 
Lady  of  the  Rosary  :  St.  James's  Day  Festivities  : 
The  Way  of  Blood  and  Tears  :  Mediaeval  Night  : 
From  Pilgrims'  Hill  Pp.  69-96 


CHAPTER  IV 

Things  Seen 

More  Contrasts  :  Bewildering  Baedeker  :  A  Galician 
Vineyard  :  Sabbath  Peace  :  Wayside  Inns  :  Security 
of  Travel  :  Brawny  Brigands  :  A  Sonorous  Tongue 

Pp.  97-108 

CHAPTER  V 

The  Atlantic  Coast  and  the  Frontier 

Romantic  Scenery  :  A  Blighted  Town  :  British  Enter- 
prise :  The  NajX)leonic  \Wars  :  A  Quaint  Old 
Place  :  Galicia's  Fjords  :  A  Remarkable  Light- 
house :  Down  to  Portugal  :  Friendly  Sentries  : 
The  Glories  of  the  Mino  :  Orense  and  its  Famous 
Bridge  Pp.  109-124 


CONTENTS  ix 


CHAPTER  VI 
Locomotion 

•  - 

The  Diligence  :  Railways  :  Galicia's  Rolling-stock  :  The 
Solemnity  of  Journeying  by  Train  :  Motor-cars  and 
Motor-buses  :  Beauty  in  the  Saddle  :  Shocks  in 
Travelling  :  "Drummers"  of  the  North-West  : 
Cycles  and  a  Freak  Pp.  125- 1 39 

CHAPTER  VII 

Mondariz 

An  Alluring  Hotel  :  Beneficent  Waters  :  A  Noble 
Building  :  Pine  Hills  and  Trout-streams  :  A  Splendid 
Pump-room  :  The  Logan  of  Arcos  :  Sobroso's  Ruins  : 
Creaking  Bullock-carts  :  Peaceful  Prospects 

Pp.  141-151 

CHAPTER  VIII 

Galicia's  Burden-bearers 

The  Woman  with  the  Coffin  :  Women  and  Weights  : 
Wages  and  Rent  :  My  Pretty  Maid  :  Hairdressing  : 
Universal  Washing  ;  A  Galician  Funeral 

Pp.  153-1 63 

CHAPTER  IX 

Arosa  Bay  and  La  Toja 

A  Favourite  Anchorage  for  British  Warships  :  Roman 
Remains  :  Religious  Prisoners  :  Cortegada  and  the 


1^1 


CONTENTS 

King  of  Spain  :  An  Attractive  Workhouse  :  Borrow 
and  the  Bible  :  An  Arcaded  Town  :  Columbus  and 
his  Ships  :  The  Haunt  of  the  Wolf :  The  Island  of 
La  Toja  :  A  Wonderful  Cure  :  Golf      Pp.  165-177 


CHAPTER  X 

CORUNNA    AND    ITS    HeRO 

The  Most  Happy  and  Invincible  Armada  :  Modern 
Corunna  :  The  Miradores  :  Wellington^  Napoleon, 
and  the  Gallegans  :  The  Peninsular  War  :  The 
Tragedy  of  Moore's  Retreat  to  Corunna  :  A 
Butchered  Rearguard  :  Marvellous  Marching  :  The 
Last  Stand  :  Moore's  Death  :  His  Burial  on  Corunna*s 
Ramparts  Pp.  179-19* 


Index 


Pp.  195-203 


\\ 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


Frontispiece 


Galicia's  Golden  Sands  {colour) 

A  Land  of  Mountain  and  Flood 

Peasants  in  their  Sunday  Best.     Fishwives 

A  Galician  Laundry 

A  Galician  Market  Place  {colour) 

A  Granary.     A  Pigeon-cot 

A  Merry  Roadside  Group 

A  Cattle  Market.     An  Open-air  Market 

San  Simon's  Island,  Vigo  Bay 

Vigo,  Galicia's  Gateway  {colour) 

Galician  Children.     Afraid  of  the  Camera 

On  the  Quay  at  Vigo.     Fishermen's  Cottages 

at  Cangas 
Santiago,  from  the  Alameda 
Santiago  de  Compostela  {colour) 
One  of  Santiago's  Twin  Towers 
Santiago,  Rua  del  Villar  {colour) 
A  Logan 
A  Galician  Village  {colour)  ^«/«^<^ 

A  Galician  Fishing-boat.     Men  and  Women 

rowing  up  Vigo  Bay  a 


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25 
30 
37 
41 

49 
51 
54 


61 

69 
71 
74 
81 
97 
99 

104 


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ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

109 


The  Church  at  Bouzas,  on  the  Coast 

Tuy,  on  tlie  Frontier  (colour)  To /ace  111 

Ferrol,  the  Spanish  Portsmouth  „       113 

The  Bridge  at  Ramallosa.   The  Shrine  on  the 

Bridge  „       118 

Oxen  towing  a  Broken-down  Motor-bus  125 

Pontevedra  by  Night :   the  Bull-ring  (co/o«r)   To  face  127 

A  Diligence  on  the  Highway.     Oxen  Yoked 

to  a  Diligence  „       128 

The  Hills  of  Mondariz  141 

Mondariz  (colour)  To  face  143 

A  Peasant's  Funeral  in  the  Hills.  A  Peasant 
Woman,  with  her  Distaff,  driving  a 
Bullock-cart  „       150 

(fathering  Firewood  in  the  Pine  Hills  153 

The  Fishing  Town  of  Marin  (colour)  To  face  155 

A  Maid  of  Cangas  „  1 59 

Carrying  Water.    A  Woman  Threshing  Beans     „  l62 

Arosa  Bay                                "  l65 

The  Island  of  La  Toja  (colour)  To  face  l67 

The  Torre  de  Hercules,  Corunna  179 

A  Road  in  the  Hills  (colour)  To  face  181 

Elvina,  where  Sir  John  Moore  was  Mortally 
Wounded.  The  House,  Modernised, 
in  which  he  died 

Sir  John  Moore's  Tomb  at  Corunna.  Corunna 
Bay,  from  the  Ramparts 

Map  of  Galicia 


9) 


»i 


191 

194 
195 


i 


1 


A^ 


'A   LAND   OF   MOUNTAIN    AND    FLOOD 


14 


INTRODUCTION 


INTRODUCTION 


I  STOOD  upon  the  salient  bastion  of  an  ancient 
fortress  towering  high  above  a  swift  and  placid 
river.  Below  and  around  me  swept  line  upon  line 
of  crumbling  walls  and  grass-grown  moats,  the  scene 
of  many  a  bloody  struggle  in  the  evil  days  of  old. 
From  a  hundred  grim  embrasures  peeped  rusty 
cannon,  harmless  now,  and  dark-eyed  children 
sported  upon  the  battlements  that  once  had  belched 
defiance  and  destruction  to  the  foe  across  the  stream. 
For  this  old  white  town,  cramped  within  its  triple 
ramparts,  is  the  last  vantage  ground  of  Portugal ; 
and  on  the  other  side  of  the  Mino  straight  before 
me  is  Galicia,  the  unconquered  land  of  the  Gael,  a 
land  of  mountain  and  flood,  of  mist  and  sunlight, 
such  as  are  all  the  western  promontories  in  which 
the  mysterious  Celtic  people  have  finally  found  a 
home  after  ages  of  unrecorded  wanderings. 

The  scene  as  I  looked  upon  it  from  these  old 
battlements  of  Valen9a  is  as  fair  as  any  that  Europe 
can  offer.  Down  in  the  valley  on  both,  sides  of  the 
stream  the  maize-fields  are  reddening  in  the  autumn 
sun,   and   between  them,  and  terraced  on  the  hill 

'  3 


4  INTRODUCTION 

slopes  above   them,  vines,    heavy   now   with   great 
masses  of  black   grapes,   are  trained  over   slender 
posts  of  grey   granite,  forming    endless  arcades  of 
fruit  and  foliage.      Then  higher  up,   climbing  the 
steep  skirts  of  the  mountains,  vast  forests  of  darkling 
pines  throw  into  relief  the  majestic  summits,  bare  and 
boulder-strewn,  upon  which  the  ardent  southern  sun- 
light glows  and  quivers,  whilst  deep  purple  shadows 
fleck  the  tints  of  old  rose  and  cinnamon  where  the 
sunlight  falls.      Across  the  majestic  iron  bridge  that 
spans  the   Mifio,   the  one  modern  note  in  all  this 
scene,  there  rises  an  ancient  city  clustered  upon  a 
rise  crowned  by  square  battlemented  towers.      Some 
old    feudal     fortress    it    would    seem;     but    closer 
acquaintance  proves  it  to  be  a  Christian  cathedral 
built  at  a  time  when  bishops  girt  the  sword  and 
donned  their  armour  to  fight  the  infidel  and  defend 
their  faith  with  their  lives. 

Tuy,  the  first  city  of  Galicia,  is  a  relic  of  a  past 
age.      Its  tortuous  narrow  streets,  mere  alleys  a  few 
feet  wide,  are  like  those  of  the  prehistoric  Celtic 
city  of  Citania  in  Portugal  :  deep  channels  worn  in 
the  living  rock  and  patched  where   necessary  with 
flat  slabs.     The  city  itself  is  as  silent  as  the  grave, 
and    the    frowning    old    castle-cathedral,    with    its 
tinkling  bell  calling  to  worship,  almost  alone  indi- 
cates   the    presence   of  the    living.       A    mediaeval 
writer  calls  Tuy  "  lately  a  city  of  pagans,"  but  for 
well  upon  ten  centuries  now  the  brave  old  Roman- 
esque church  has  stood  aloft  unmoved  like  a  clifi*  to 
resist  the  incursions  of  the  enemies  of  the  Church. 


INTRODUCTION  5 

But  Tuy,  quaint  and  suggestive  of  thought  as  it  is, 
can  hardly  be  considered  a  typical  Gahcian  city  ; 
for  the  best  and  most  picturesque  regions  of  Galicia 
are  those  which  surround  the  glorious  fjords  cut 
deep  into  the  land  that  entitles  the  little  "  Kingdom  " 
to  be  called  the  Norway  of  Spain. 

The  scenery  up  the  Miilo  to  Orense  is,  as  Mr. 
Wood  has  mentioned,  one  of  the  most  fascinating 
series  of  river  views  for  fifty  miles  that  Europe  can 
show.  Foaming  and  tearing  its  way  between  dark 
gorges,  broadening  here  and  there  into  smiling  little 
valleys,  the  mountains  terraced  almost  to  their 
distant  summits  with  mere  steps  upon  which  crops 
are  raised,  the  river  passes  through  infinite  phases 
of  beauty.  But  the  towns,  and  even  villages,  are 
few  and  far  between  in  these  wild  regions,  and  the 
suave  and  beautiful  inland  bays,  with  the  sweet 
valleys  and  soaring  sierras  that  surround  them,  will 
form  for  visitors  the  main  attractions  of  Galicia. 

I  have  here  little  to  add  to  Mr.  Wood's  glowing 
descriptions  of  many  of  the  places  he  visited,  except 
to  confirm  them  fully  and  completely  from  long 
and  intimate  local  knowledge.  To  come  comfort- 
ably and  safely  from  brumous  England  in  the 
spring  or  autumn  in  less  than  sixty  hours  to  this 
enchanted  land  is  almost  like  a  sudden  change  of 
world.  This  vivid  light  sharpening  all  the  outlines 
and  vivifying  the  colours  to  almost  fierce  intensity, 
can  surely  not  emanate  from  the  pale,  misty  sun  we 
left  but  two  short  days  ago  ;  these  azure  seas  land- 
locked   by  the    eternal    hills    of   pines  and  gilded 


1' 


6 


INTRODUCTION 


summits,  seem  a  different  element  from  the  sullen 
turgid    grey    of   the    Channel    waves.       And     the 
chaffering   folk   in  the    markets    of   Vigo   clad    in 
brilliant  colours,  vehement  in  their  bargaining  as  if 
life  depended  upon  the  price  of  the  glowing  fruits 
and   glittering   fish   which   they  buy  and   sell;  do 
they  belong  to  the  same  human  family  of  sad-faced 
people  we   have   left   behind   us?     I^ok  at  these 
hardy  fisherfolk,  and  still  more  at  the  husbandmen 
and  graziers  in   the  inland    valleys,   and  you    will 
recognise  their  close  resemblance  with  some  of  our 
own   people.      These,  you  will  say,  might  well  be 
Connemara    folk,   and    in    many    respects    besides 
personal   appearance   these  Gallegos  are  like  their 
brother  Celts  in  other  western  lands  indented  by 
the     sea.      The     bays    of    Western    Ireland    from 
Donegal    to    Kerry;    the   lochs  of  Scotland    from 
Ross   to  Argyll ;     the   waters  that   run  deep  into 
the  Breton  land  from  St.  Michel  round  to  Morbihan, 
all  breed  upon  their  banks  and  valleys  men  of  the 
same   race  as  these,   though  none  of  them    are  so 
untouched  by  outer  influences,  except  in  the  matter 
of   language,    as    these    Gallegos.      Wanderers   are 
they    and   workers   throughout   their   world:    they 
have  none  of  the  Castihan's  haughty  assumption  of 
superiority  independent  of  circumstances.     Through- 
out the  Peninsula,  both  in  Spain  and  Portugal,  in 
many  parts  of  eastern  South  America,  wherever  a 
poor  wage  may  be  gained  by  hard  work ;  harvesting 
other  people's  crops,  carrying  other  people's  burdens, 
there  you  will    find    the    patient    Gallego,    hardy, 


INTRODUCTION  ^ 

frugal,  and  honest,  yearning  like  a  true  Celt  for 
his  own  home  and  his  own  kin  again :  sometimes, 
indeed,  though  rarely,  so  overcome  by  the  home- 
sickness as  to  be  unable  to  resist  the  craving  for 
his  native  hill-side  before  even  he  has  amassed  the 
few  crowns  that  will  enable  him  to  provide  some 
little  comfort  for  him  and  his. 

This  Celtic  instinct  and  need  to  wander  in  search 
of  work  in  order  to  render  less  hard  the  lot  of  the 
weaker  ones  left  behind,  is  the  main  reason  for  the 
almost  universal  labour  of  the  women  of  Galicia  m 
tasks    elsewhere    usually    allotted    to     men.      The 
constant   drain   of  the   best  and   strongest  of   the 
male   population   of  Galicia  by  emigration   is  the 
saddest  phase    of   Galician    life.       Something  like 
twenty  thousand  Gallegos  emigrate  to  the  Argentine 
Republic  every  year.     They  are  usually  men  of  the 
soil,  crowded  out  by  a  vicious  system  of  taxation 
and  the  infinite  subdivision  of  the  soil  amongst  a 
multitude    of   peasants    owning    their    tiny    crofts. 
The   soil   and  climate   of    Galicia  are  the  best  in 
Spain  and  the  people  are  by  far  the  most  laborious ; 
and  yet  it  is  calculated  that  three-quarters  of  the 
poorer  classes  in  the  province  are  only  kept  alive  by 
remittances  sent  by  the  hardworking  sons,  husbands, 
and    brothers    in    America.     Not    less    than  eight 
millions  of  pesetas  (^280,000)  thus  finds  its  way, 
mostly  in  very  small  sums,  annually  to  those  who 
stay  at  home  living  upon  the  hard  fare  and  keeping 
the  wolf  from  the  door  as  best  they  may  by  constant 
toil  upon  land  or  sea. 


it 


8 


INTRODUCTION 


But  a  better  time,  it  is  hoped,   is  dawning  for 
this  favoured  land.      The  unrivalled  fishing  grounds 
are   providing   now   not   only  food   for   those  who 
live  upon  the  shores.      All  along  the  Ria  of  Vigo 
and    elsewhere    factories     are    working,    preserving 
and  packing  sardines  for  the  markets  in  the  world. 
The  abundant  vegetables  and  fruits,  which  accord- 
ing   to    the   altitude  upon   the    hill-sides   may   be 
gathered    from   early    spring    to   late  autumn,   are 
likewise  being   preserved    for    export    to    countries 
less   abundant    than   this.      Other    industries,    too, 
are  awakening  after  the  stifled  sleep  of  generations, 
and  if  the  burden  of  taxation  upon  land  and  labour 
can  be  lightened  in  its  incidence  there  may  yet  be 
sunshine   for  the  humble  cottages  of  the  Galician 
valleys,  and  prosperity  flowing  from  the  labour  of 
Gallegos  in  their  own  land  rather  than  from  remit- 
tances   from   abroad.      The   living   of   these  poor, 
patient  folk  is  incredibly  frugal ;  and  like  that  of 
their  kinsmen  in  Western  Ireland  inferior  in  stamina. 
Maize  bread,  and  hrma,  a  coarse  millet  bread,  is  the 
staple   food  with    potatoes,  though    wheat    of   the 
finest    quality    can    be    grown  ;     and  the  province 
which  provides  cattle  for  the  consumption  of  half 
Spain,  and  once  did  a  splendid  trade  in  oxen  with 
England,  feeds  its  own  population  mainly  on  fish, 
varied  by  an  occasional  meal  of  cow-beef  too  poor 

for  export. 

Of  all  this  the  casual  visitor  sees  nothing,  and 
perhaps  cares  nothing.  He  drives  through  a 
smiling  land  greener  than  Kerry,  more  sunny  than 


PEASANTS  IX  THEIR  SUNDAY  BEST 


^fl 


I 


i' 


FISHWIVES 


INTRODUCTION  9 

the    overrated    French    Riviera:     he    lingers    in 
abundantly  supplied  markets,  where  all  the  fruits  of 
the  earth  and  ocean  seem  spread  in  glowing  heaps : 
he  spins   in    a    comfortable   motor-car  along   good 
roads  cut  upon  the  steep  sides  of  mountains,  and  at 
every  turn  of  the  tortuous  way  admiring  some  new 
enchanting  prospect  of   far-flung   valley,    towenng 
cliffs  or  smiling  fjord.      The   white   cottages   with 
their  attendant  conical  dovecots  and  tiny  granaries, 
their   cobs  of  maize  hung  to  ripen   in   fringe-hke 
rows  from  their  verandahs,  are,  it  is  true,  mean  and 
dark  within  ;  but  they  form  a  gracious  note  amidst 
the  lush   green    of    never-failing    vegetation.      Not 
even  in  the  depth  of  winter  is  the  landscape  free 
from  flowers.      In   February  the  wallflowers  are  m 
full  bloom  in  the  crannies  of  ancient  masonry,  and 
the    sweet-scented    mimosa  is   bent    down    by    the 
weight  of  its  masses  of  yellow  flowers ;  a  few  weeks 
latelr  the  starry  white  and  crimson  camellias  grow 
in  the  open  with  marvellous  luxuriance,  and  by  the 
middle  of  April  the  cherries  are  ripe  in  the  sheltered 

valleys. 

The  air  blows  soft  and  moist  from  the  sea 
through  most  of  the  year,  tempering  the  ardent  sun 
even  in  the  height  of  summer ;  and  this  fact,  which 
accounts  for  the  marvellous  verdancy  and  fertility 
of  the  soil,  also  brings  with  it  frequent  showers  and 
mists  drifting  up  the  Rias,  especially  in  the  winter 
and  early  spring.  But  the  rains  are  seldom  of  ong 
continuance,  and  the  sunshine  invariably  follows 
close  upon  them,  drying  everything  with  wonderful 


10 


INTRODUCTION 


rapidity  and  leaving   the  country  more    sparkling 
and  green  than  ever. 

Through  such  a  country  as  this  the  traveller 
may  go  by  motor-car  or  railway  from  one  Qord  to 
another,  rarely  long  out  of  sight  of  blue  water  most 
of  the  way  from  Vigo  to  the  bellisima  Noya,  by  the 
holy  town  of  Padron,  where  the  body  of  St.  James 
first  took  harbour  on  its  miraculous  voyage  from 
the  Holy  Land  to  the  country  that  thenceforward 
was  to  be  its  home.  In  old  times  it  was  part  of 
the  great  pilgrimage  after  worshipping  at  the  shrine 
of  the  Saint  at  Santiago  to  trudge  on  to  Padron, 
the  Iria  Flavia  of  the  Romans,  and  the  ancient 
Galician  verse  says : 

"  Quien  va  a  Santiago 
E  non  va  al  Padron 
Of  faz  ronieria  6  non,"" 

Through  the  Middle  Ages  a  stream  of  pilgrims 
wended  their  way  from  all  Christian  lands  to 
Santiago.  The  innumerable  stars  of  the  Milky 
Way  are  called  by  Spaniards  "  the  road  of  Santiago,""* 
expressive  of  the  vast  concourse  of  the  faithful  that 
flocked  to  the  Galician  shrine. 

I  have  before  me  as  I  write  a  naive  relation  of  a 
German  priest,  the  envoy,  by  the  way,  of  an 
emperor  seeking  a  Portuguese  bride,  who  thought 
it  his  duty  on  the  way  to  worship  at  the  sainted 
tomb  of  Santiago.  His  narrative  marks  quaintly 
the  immense  difference  that  has  come  over  the 
world  since  the  mid-fifteenth  century  in  which  he 


INTRODUCTION  H 

wrote.      On  arriving  at  Astorga  the  band  of  pilgrims 
who  travelled  together,  and  of  which  he  and  his 
colleague  formed  part,  were  advised  to  go  no  farther 
for  the  present,  as  one  of  the  great  rieving  terri- 
torial nobles,  who  afterwards  gave  Ferdinand  and 
Isabella  so   much    trouble  to   crush,   was  ravaging 
Galicia  and  making  war  on  the  all-powerful  favourite 
of  the  King,  Don  Alvaro  de  Luna.     The  pilgrims 
being  very  numerous,  decided  to  run  the  risk,  con- 
fiding in  the  harmless  and  meritorious  character  of 
their  journey.      Not  far  from  Pontevedra,  however, 
they  fell  in  with  a  strong  force  of  freebooters,  who 
at  once  attacked  them,  wounding  many  and  stripping 
the  whole  company  to  the  skin.      On  their  knees, 
and  in  mortal  terror,  the  Emperor^s  envoys  showed 
their    credentials   and    prayed    for    mercy,  but   no 
attention   was  paid  to  them,  though  they  invoked 
Santiago  and  all  the  other  saints  in  the  calendar. 
They  were  allowed,  at  last,  to  go  on  the  way  with 
their   companions,  despoiled  and,   as   the    narrator 
says,  "  full  of  pain,  suffering  and  anguish,  passing 
through  towns  burnt  and  sacked  by  the  marauders." 
At  last  arriving  at  Pontevedra  some  kindness  was 
shown   them,  and,  on  foot   still,   the   whole   band 
trudged  on  to  Santiago.     After  visiting  the  shrine 
there  thev  walked,  a^  in  duty  bound,  "  with  certain 
pilgrims  from  Ireland,"  to  Padron,  where  beneath 
the  waves  they  were  shown  the  stone  ship  that  had 
brought  to  the  port  the  body  of  the  apostle.     Then 
to  another  shrine  at  Finisterre  also  they  went  on 
foot,  and  finally,  their  religious  duty  being  ended. 


12 


INTRODUCTION 


they  proceeded  on  their  matrimonial  mission  to 
Portugal. 

The  streets  of  Santiago  can  have  changed  but 
little  since  those  far-ofF  days  of  pious  pilgrimage, 
when  from  all  points  of  Christendom  came  the 
countless  thousands  to  expiate  sins  or  seek  salvation. 
As  the  big  omnibus  from  Cornes  station  bumps  and 
rumbles  into  the  streets  of  the  ancient  city,  almost 
the  only  vehicle  that  ever  invades  them,  a  plunge  is 
made  into  the  centuries  of  long  ago.  Narrow  slab- 
paved  streets  with  dim  arcades  on  both  sides,  above 
which  houses  of  unimaginable  antiquity  are  reared. 
Scallop  shells  adorn  the  fronts  of  many  of  them, 
indicating  that  they  were  formerly  pilgrims'  lodg- 
ings, and  carved  coats  of  arms  with  knightly  casques 
above  remind  us  that  in  the  old  days  nobles,  too, 
lived  in  the  streets  of  the  holy  city.  It  looks 
almost  an  anachronism  for  men  and  women  in 
modern  garb  to  wander  through  these  silent  streets 
and  to  tread  the  very  slabs  worn  thin  by  the  pilgrim 
shoon  of  the  centuries  of  faith  so  long  ago. 

Though  lacking  its  sacred  associations,  Pontevedra 
in  its  way  is  almost  as  quaint  as  Santiago.  Stand- 
ing at  the  head  of  its  lovely  Ria,  just  where  the 
river  Lerez  joins  the  bay,  it  is  surrounded  by 
gracious  hills  backed  by  the  Sierra  high  aloft.  No 
words  can  exafffferate  the  luxuriant  character  of  the 
vegetation  all  around.  As  elsewhere,  maize  and 
vines  floor  the  valleys  and  lower  slopes  with  abundant 
fruit  trees  and  a  wilderness  of  flowers.  Above  are 
the  oaks,  sycamores,  and  chestnuts,  then  higher  still 


INTRODUCTION  1 3 

the  grave   solemn  pines,  crowned  at  last  by  bare 
rocky   summits   glittering  and  'gilded  in   the   sun. 
The  ancient  Plaza  and  Calle  Real  of  Pontevedra, 
with   arcade-arches  so  low    that    most  Englishmen 
have  to  stoop  to  enter  them,  must  present  the  same 
aspect  as   in  the  Middle  Ages ;  these  very  houses 
and  arcades  must  have  stood  as  now  when  Columbus 
sailed  in  his  Pontevedra  ship  to  discover  the  New 
World.      Whether  the  great  "  admiral  of  the  ocean 
sea '"  was,  as  some  have  not  hesitated  to  assert,  of 
Pontevedran  origin  himself  it    is   difficult  now  to 
decide ;  but  certain  it  is  that  many  of  the   Spanish 
sea-dogs  who   guided   the    conquistadores    into   the 
unknown    were    men    from    Pontevedra    and    the 
adjoining  port  of  Marin. 

All  Galicia  is  historic   ground  for  Englishmen. 
Its    bays   and   harbours    have    been   the   resort    of 
our    ships    in    peace    and    war   from   time    imme- 
morial, and  here  in  Pontevedra  the  English  John 
of  Gaunt  reigned   for  years   as  so-called   King  of 
Castile  in  right  of  his  wife  the  daughter  of  Peter 
the   Cruel.      Here  in  the  country  round  the  Soto- 
mayors,  the  Sarmientos,  the  Fonsecas,  and  Monte- 
negros  fought  out  their  endless  feuds  in  which  the 
warlike  archbishops    of  Santiago    took  a  frequent 
part,  until  the  great  Isabella  with  iron  hand  and 
virile  energy  crushed  them  all  with  her  hernmndad. 
Here  in  the  neighbourhood  was  born  that  Sarmiento 
whom  we  in  England  know  best,  him  of  Gondomar,^ 
who  ruled  our  crowned  poltroon  James  I.  by  bluff 
and  mother  wit.     To  the  Sarmientos  too  belonged 


14 


INTRODUCTION 


that  Maria  de  Salinas  as  she  is  incorrectly  called  in 
our  annals,  the  devoted  friend  of  Katherine  of 
Ara2on,and  the  ancestress  of  the  house  of  Willoughby 

d'Eresby. 

From  Corunna,  the  Groyne,  as  our  forbears 
translated  it,  sailed  those  numerous  futile  fleets  that 
Philip  destined  to  bring  stubborn  England  to  her 
knees.  From  the  great  Armada  down  to  the  poor 
squadron  that  sailed  for  Ireland  when  Elizabeth  lay 
dying,  Corunna  was  the  try  sting-place  for  England's 
foes.  Here  came  the  Desmonds,  O'Donnells  and 
O'Sullivans,  who  hoped  to  set  a  Catholic  Ireland 
under  the  seal  of  Spain.  Here  landed  the  Irish 
bishops  and  priests  who  went  backwards  and  for- 
wards from  Killibegs  to  Spain  plotting  and  planning 
for  Ireland's  emancipation :  here  Drake  and  Norris 
in  1589  avenged  the  Armada  by  a  bloody  but 
fruitless  siege,  greatly  to  Elizabeth's  indignation. 
I  have  told  elsewhere  *  the  not  too  creditable  story 
of  this  unauthorised  siege  in  which  the  strong  wine 
of  Galicia  proved  a  worse  enemy  to  the  English 
than  the  pikes  and  partisans  of  the  brave  Gallegan 
peasants  and  their  womenkind  led  by  the  redoubt- 
able heroine  Maria  Pita  herself.    - 

But  all  the  blood  feud  has  been  forgotten  long 
ago.  The  splendid  soldier  of  British  blood  whose 
body  lies  buried  upon  the  ramparts  of  Corunna 
died  for  Spain,  as  did  thousands  of  our  countrymen 
in  that  Titanic  war  to  free  the  Peninsula  from  the 
grip  of  Napoleon;  and  Gallegos,  high  and  low, 
*  "  The  Year  after  the  Armada." 


INTRODUCTION 


15 


have  nothing  but  warm  Celtic  welcome  for  British 
visitors  to  their  beautiful  and  long-neglected  land. 
The  British  home  fleet  finds  a  frequent  rendezvous 
in  the  magnificent  Bay  of  Arosa,  where  Villa  Garcia 
receives  with  open  arms  the  sailors  who  come  in 
peace.  This  beautiful  Villa  Garcia  and  its  ad- 
joining town  of  Carril,  upon  the  line  of  railway 
from  Pontevedra  to  Santiago,  are  destined  for  great 
things  in  the  near  future.  Upon  a  charming  wooded 
island,  Cortegada,  a  few  cable-lengths  only  from  the 
shore,  the  new  marine  palace  of  the  King  of  Spain 
is  to  be  built,  and  the  English-born  Queen  will  be 
cheered  by  the  sight  of  the  fleets  of  her  native  land 
lying  within  hail  of  her  summer  home. 

Nothing  more  exquisite  can  be  imagined  than 
a  trip  by  sailing-boat  or  steam  launch  through  this 
lovely  landlocked  bay  of  Arosa.  Defended  in  the 
entrance  by  the  storied  isles  of  0ns,  the  great 
inlet  looks  like  a  vast  lake  surrounded  by  moun- 
tains on  all  sides.  The  water  is  so  clear  and  pellucid 
that  the  bottom  can  be  clearly  seen  many  fathoms 
deep.  A  lofty  island,  that  of  Arosa,  occupies  a 
position  in  the  centre  of  the  bay,  and  on  the  oppo- 
site side,  near  the  sandy  promontory  of  Grove,  the 
pine-clad  isle  of  La  Toja,  with  its  wonderful  healing 
hot  wells  within  a  few  feet  of  the  sea,  possesses  one 
of  the  finest  hotels  in  Spain. 

For,  whatever  happens  with  the  rest  of  the  country, 
this  land  of  Galicia  is  going  ahead  at  last.  Gallegos 
who  have  returned  rich  from  the  Argentine  are  show- 
ing an  increasing  disposition  to  invest  capital  in  native 


16 


INTRODUCTION 


INTRODUCTION 


17 


enterprises,  and  the  factories  that  are  springing  up 
around  Vigo  are  the  result.  Not  only  can  La  Toja 
show  an  hotel  of  which  any  country  in  Europe  might 
be  proud,  but,  at  Mondariz,  the  establishment  in  the 
high  valley  of  the  Tea,  which  Mr.  Wood  so  justly 
praises,  is  an  hotel  that  will  satisfy  the  most  exact- 
ing visitor.  If  only  the  terrible  exodus  of  the 
able-bodied  male  population  can  be  checked  by 
making  the  lot  of  the  peasant  less  cruelly  hard  than 
it  is,  Galicia  should  be  one  of  the  most  prosperous 
regions  in  Europe. 

As  a  proof  that  the  present  poverty  and  back- 
wardness are  the  result  of  political  causes  it  may  be 
mentioned   that    thousands   of    Gallegos    cross   the 
Mino  every  summer  and  autumn  to  labour  in  the 
Portuguese    fields   and    return    with    their    hoarded 
wage   to  help   them   through  the  winter  at  home, 
much    as    the    Irish    harvester    serves    the   English 
farmer.      There  are  reasons  for  the  latter,  for  English 
agricultural  land  is   richer   than   Irish,   and   racial 
causes  operate  in  this  case.      But  the  land  on  the 
south   of   the    Mino   is    much    the  same  as  on   the 
north,  the  climate  is  identical,  and  the  Gallegos  and 
people  of  North  Portugal  are  of  the  same  stock  and 
speak  a  similar  tongue.     And  yet  the  North  Portu- 
guese small  farmer,   well   off   and  prosperous,   can 
afford  to  hire  the  man  in  a  similar  position  across  the 
Spanish  frontier  to  do  his  hard  work,  whilst  in  Gahcia 
women  do  the  work  of  men  in  their  husbands'  absence. 
The  visitor  whose  aim   is  but  to  pass  a  pleasant 
hohday  of  a  few  weeks  in  Galicia,  especially  without 


a  good  knowledge  of  the  language,  cannot  hope  to 
study  the  unspoilt  people  in  their  own  homes. 
Those  whom  he  will  meet  in  the  seaports  and  along 
the  bays  are  to  some  extent  sophisticated  and 
accustomed  to  deal  with  foreigners,  but  it  would 
well  repay  a  scholar  interested  in  Celtic  folklore  to 
live  amongst  the  peasants  of  some  of  the  inland 
valleys  for  a  time,  to  gather  some  of  the  traditions 
which  are  yet  handed  down  from  remote  antiquity 
amongst  these  primitive  folk.  Like  all  their  race, 
the  Gallegos  are  shy  and  distrustful.  Their  super- 
stitions and  rites  are  for  them  almost  sacred  things, 
but  with  patience  and  tact  many  of  their  quaint 
beliefs  may  still  be  gathered  from  them,  as  they 
have  been  by  the  greatest  of  living  Spanish  women, 
the  Countess  of  Pardo  Bazan,  whose  books  upon  her 
native  land  of  Galicia  are  redolent  of  the  soil,  as  are 
those  of  another  distinguished  Gallego,  the  Marquis 

of  Figueroa. 

The  peasant  cultivators  of  the  isolated  valleys 
and  mountain  slopes  rarely  come  into  the  larger 
centres  of  population.  Each  little  local  town  has  its 
fortnightly  market,  where  produce  and  cattle  are 
sold  for  money  with  which  to  pay  the  tax-collector 
and  to  buy  the  simple  necessaries  not  produced  upon 
the  soil.  To  see  the  Galician  peasant  as  he  is,  one 
must  study  him  at  his  local  fair,  and  on  one  of  his 
long  pilgrimages  to  a  holy  shrine.  On  these 
occasions,  as  on  similar  occasions  with  the  Irish 
peasantry,  he  is  for  a  time  boisterously  gay,  given 
to    singing,   dancing,  and    music,   the  latter  being 


B 


\\ 


18 


INTRODUCTION 


produced  from  the  native  bagpipes,  gaita,  and 
tambour.  But  in  the  long  winter  nights  in  his 
dark  cottage,  with  its  smoky  fire  of  vine-cuttings 
and  pine-cones,  the  Gallego,  like  his  brother  Celt 
elsewhere,  is  moody,  poetical  and  speculatively  mystic. 
In  such  surroundings  as  this  the  tale  of  wraiths  and 
demons  goes  shuddering  round,  for  the  Senor  Cura, 
who  sternly  reproves  such  talk  when  he  hears  it,  is 
safe  in  his  lonely  little  parsonage  adjoining  the 
village  church. 

But  not  alone  of  malevolent  spirits  is  the  con- 
versation around  the  cottage  fire.  Much  communing 
there  is  of  America,  and  of  kinsmen  and  friends 
who  are  seeking  a  livelihood,  and  sometimes,  but 
rarely,  finding  not  only  that  but  a  fortune  in  far 
Argentina.  How  Tio  Pedro,  a  returned  Indiano 
with  pockets  full  of  money,  is  coming  to  build  a  fine 
house  in  his  native  valley ;  how  poor  Juanito  has 
returned  ill  and  homesick  without  a  dollar  ;  how  the 
good  lad  Pepe  sends  the  large  sum  of  ten  pesetas 
every  month  to  his  old  mother,  who  is  looked  up  to 
in  consequence  as  quite  a  wealthy  woman,  and  so  on 
— talk  not  very  different,  indeed,  from  that  which 
goes  on  around  the  turf  fire  of  many  a  hill-side 
cottage  in  Western  Ireland. 

And  Galicia,  like  Ireland,  is  a  land  of  saints  and 
soldiers.  From  its  mountain  fastnesses  and  those  of 
its  neighbour  Asturias,  went  forth  those  indomitable 
Christians  who  saved  Europe  and  the  world  from 
the  domination  of  Islam.  This  was  the  focus  of 
mystic   religious  fervour  which  made  the  mediaeval 


INTRODUCTION 


19 


Spanish  Christian  ten  times  a  man.  Here  the 
ecstatic  visions  seen  by  star-gazing  shepherds  in  the 
night  foretold  the  final  victory  of  the  Cross  ;  here 
the  blazing  emblem  of  the  redemption  miraculously 
led  the  Christian  hosts  to  combat;  hither  to  this 
land  of  fervid  faith  was  wafted  the  body  of  the 
apostle  in  its  ship  of  stone,  to  give  heart  to  his 
own  people  ;  and  from  time  immemorial  the  stoutest 
priests  and  bishops  of  the  Spanish  Church  have 
issued  from  the  race  that  alone  of  all  Spaniards 
held  even  the  Roman  legions  at  bay,  and  provided 
the  spiritual  fervour  that  finally  rolled  back  the 
Moor.  From  Caesar  to  Wellington  great  comman- 
ders have  borne  testimony  to  the  martial  valour  of 
the  Gallegos ;  and  there  are  no  bonnier  fighters 
even  now  in  Spain  than  the  thickset,  stocky  little 
chaps  who  are  drawn,  usually  much  against  their 
will,  to  fill  Spanish  regiments  in  distant  parts  of  the 
country  and  in  North  Africa. 

And  yet  with  all  their  fine  qualities,  and  in  spite 
of  the  fact  that  many  of  the  most  eminent  writers, 
thinkers,  and  administrators  of  Spain  are  natives 
of  Galicia,  Gallegos  are  often  held  by  Castilians 
in  derision.  To  the  Gallego  with  his  half-Portu- 
guese speech  is  attributed  every  story*  which 
requires  boorish  stupidity  as  its  subject,  and 
the  "  bull,''  which  English  people  are  fond  of 
calling  Irish,  depending  as  it  does  upon  the  mental 
process  being  too  rapid  for  vocal  expression,  is 
considered  by  Castilians  as  the  special  characteristic 
of  the  Gallego. 


20 


INTRODITCTION 


This  is  the  people,  and  this  is  the  land,  which 
Mr.  Wood  describes  in  the  present  volume,  with 
the  aid  of  the  excellent  illustrations  of  Mr.  Mason. 
To  those  English  travellers  who,  deserting  the 
beaten  track  of  tourists,  are  tempted  to  see  for 
themselves  this  unspoilt  pleasure-ground,  a  feast  of 
new  and  pleasant  impressions  may  be  confidently 
promised.  They  will  find  a  country  of  loch  and 
mountain  that  will  make  the  Scottish  Highlands 
seem  trivial  and  tame,  they  will  find  a  climate  as 
soft  as  Munster  and  as  warm  as  Italy,  a  vegetation 
as  green  as  that  of  Killarney  without  the  chilling 
mists  of  Ireland. 

Drawbacks  naturally  there  are.     The  country  is 
backward,    and    some    of    the     smaller    hotels    are 
lacking    in    the     luxuries    that    English     travellers 
expect.     But  progress  in  these  and  other  respects 
is    being    made    with    giant    strides.       The    great 
English  liners  that  carry  passengers  from  England 
to  Vigo  and  Corunna  in  two  days  and  a  half  are  of 
course  excellent,  and  the  principal  hotels  of  Vigo, 
Mondariz  and  La  Toja,  are  all  that  can  be  desired. 
The  hostelries  of  Santiago  and  Pontevedra  are  being 
greatly  improved,   and   new  modern  hotels  are   in 
project.     The   new  Association   in   Galicia  with   a 
branch  in   London   for    the    purpose  of   rendering 
the  province  agreeable  to  English  visitors  is  already 
hard  at  work  stirring  up  local  opinion  in  favour  of 
the  reforms  in  accommodation  and  locomotion  that 
are     needed,     and     every    important    interest    and 
authority  in  Galicia,  from  the  Cardinal  Archbishop 


INTRODUCTION 


SI 


of   Santiago    to    the    local    town     councillors,    are 

pledged    to    do   their  utmost   to   make  this   sweet 

"  Corner    of    Spain '"    an     attractive    and    fitting 

resort    for     British     seekers     after     health     and 

recreation. 

MARTIN  HUME, 

Chairman  of  the  London  Committee  of 
the  Galician  Association. 


A   GALICIAN    LAUNDRY 


ii 


\ 


CHAP.  I 
GALICIA 
AND  ITS 
PEOPLE 


o 

< 

I 

< 

<: 
u 


CHAPTER  I 

GALICIA  AND  ITS  PEOPLE 

Even  Spaniards  are  sometimes  at  a  loss  to  say 
which  part  of  their  kingdom  is  Galicia,  just  as 
Londoners  occasionally  pause  before  locating  York- 
shire. The  Englishman  confesses  either  that  he  has 
never  heard  of  Galicia  or  does  not  know  where  the 
country  is.  He  imagines  vaguely  that  it  is  situ- 
ated in  Poland.  There  are,  indeed,  two  Galicias, 
one  north  of  the  Carpathians  and  the  other,  of 
which  I  am  writing,  bounded  by  the  Atlantic  and 
the  Bay  of  Biscay.  Galicia  includes  Corunna,  which 
is  known  to  all  good  Englishmen  because  of  the 
burial  on  its  ramparts  of  Sir  John  Moore.  The 
country,  too,  is  associated  with  Columbus  and  the 
Armada,  for  the  explorer's  own  ship  was  built  at  a 
Galician  port,  and  the  Armada  finally  sailed  from 
Corunna  to  conquer  England.  Spain's  holiest  city, 
Santiago  de  Compostela,  is  in  Galicia. 

If  you  consult  a  map  of  Spain  you  will  see 
Galicia  at  the  top  comer,  jutting  boldly  into  the 
Atlantic,  with  a  coast-line,  largely  formed  of  glorious 

inland  bays,  of  two  hundred  and  forty  miles.     No 

2$ 


\  » 


26 


A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 


other  part  of  the  Peninsula  presents  such  a  wonder- 
ful and  majestic  frontage  to  the  sea ;  nor  does  any 
other  Spanish  province  afford  greater  contrasts  of 
scenery  and  people. 

This  corner  of  Spain  has  a  history  which  goes 
back  to  the  times  of  the  Phoenicians,  centuriesijefore 
St.  James  the  Elder,  who  is  to  Galicia  what  Christ 
is  to  Palestine,  preached  the  Gospel  on  its  rugged 
shores.  Romans  and  Moors  tried  in  vain  to  con- 
quer Galicia,  and  in  Santiago  Cathedral  there  is  a 
tablet  recording  the  triumph  ten  centuries  ago  of 
Christians  over  Moslems  at  the  battle  of  Clavijo. 

There  is  a  famous  legend  of  this  celebrated  fight. 
The  Moors  demanded  from  Galicia  the  tribute  of  a 
hundred  virgins,  from  whom  they  meant  to  benefit 
their  nation's  stock,  but  the  monstrous  claim  in- 
spired the  native  Christians  with  such  a  warlike 
spirit  that  they  slaughtered  sixty  thousand  of  the 
infidels  and  drove  the  Moors  out  of  the  country. 
Betanzos,  an  old-world  town  near  Corunna,  is 
associated  with  this  thousand-year-old  belief,  and 
one  of  its  quaint  thoroughfares  is  called  the  Street 
of  the  Hundred  Maidens. 

Galicia  is  a  land  of  hills.  They  are  seen  as  soon 
as  the  coast  is  observed,  and  no  journey  can  be 
made  without  beholding  them.  The  hills  are  not 
high  enough  to  be  called  mountains,  but  their 
altitude  in  many  cases  gives  them  a  noble  and 
dignified  appearance.  Richard  Ford  called  Galicia 
the  Switzerland  of  Spain  ;  but  there  are  no  hills  in 
the  province  to  compare  with  even  the  range  on  Lake 


GALICIA  AND  ITS  PEOPLE 


27 


Geneva,  and  nothing  to  equal  the  majestic  Dent 
du  Midi ;  yet  those  north-western  heights  have 
charms  and  beauties  of  their  own,  and  in  some 
respects  are  more  attractive  than  the  hills  of 
Switzerland.  The  Alps  allure  the  climber,  but  the 
day  is  not  remote  when  the  sierras  of  Galicia  will 
irresistibly  call  those  travellers  who  crave  for 
splendid  panoramas  and  are  fascinated  by  the 
cliance  of  sport.  Wolves  and  wild  boars  still  roam 
about  the  lonely  hills,  remote  from  man,  and  there 
is  abundant  fishing  everywhere. 

The  country  is  well  watered,  a  number  of  rivers, 
of  which  the  chief  is  the  Mino,  flowing  into  the 
bays  and  the  Atlantic  through  its  hills  and  valleys. 
In  ordinary  seasons  the  streams  are  insignificant, 
but  after  heavy  rains  they  develop  into  raging 
torrents  and  thunder  over  their  rocky  beds.  The 
too,   will  rise  swiftly  and  to  great  heights. 


rivers. 


At  the  end  of  December  1909  Galicia,  like  the 
rest  of  Europe,  was  swept  by  storms,  and  rivers  rose 
from  twenty  to  twenty-five  feet  above  their  normal 
level,  destroying  bridges,  buildings,  animals,  and 
human  life.  A  Galician  river  in  flood  is  a  striking 
spectacle,  especially  a  stream  like  the  Mino,  which 
even  in  ordinary  seasons  is  a  swift  and  turgid  water. 
The  Mino  separates  Galicia  from  Portugal,  acting 
as  a  natural  frontier  from  the  southern  extremity  of 
the  provice  to  San  Gregorio.  This  river  has  been 
well  called  the  Glory  of  Galicia,  and  the  tourist  to 
the  country  would  be  fully  recompensed  for  his  visit 
even  if  he  did  nothing  more  than  make  the  railway 


\  ^ 


28  A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 

journey   along   the  Mifio's  splendid  and  impressive 

banks.  . 

Galicia's  hills  abound  in  granite,  much  of  which  is 
easily  accessible  and  workable.   In  many  of  thecountry 
districts   the   peasants  and   small   farmers,  for   the 
sake  of  asking,  are  permitted  to  quarry  for  building 
purposes  and  to  secure  those  thin  upright  grey  posts 
which  are  such  a  singular  feature  of  the  vineyards. 
It  seems  strange  that  in  a  land  where  trees  are  so 
abundant  and  timber  is  to  be  had  for  the  trouble  of 
felling  preference  should  be  given  to  granite;  yet 
the  stone  is  easier  and  cheaper  to  work  than  timber, 
and  on  the  hills  and  roadsides  men  and  women  are 
constantly  quarrying  the  brittle  substance.    The  way 
of  working  and  the  tools  employed  are  very  simple. 
Holes  are  chiselled  at  distances  of  about  a  foot; 
then  iron  or  wooden  wedges  are  driven  in  and  the 
granite   block  is  separated.     The   same  system   of 
wedge-driving  is  employed  in  getting  the  props  for 
vineyards,  and  the  long  thin  slabs  come  easily  away. 
Enormous  numbers  of  these   granite   supports   are 
used,  and  long  high  walls  are  often  seen,  built  of 
slabs    placed    upright  in  the  ground  and  so  close 
together  that  the  structure  looks  like  solid  stone. 

Much  has  been  written  of  the  poverty  of  the 
Gallegans,  as  the  people  of  Galicia  are  caUed,  and 
the  sparsity  of  food  and  drink  for  many  of  the  two 
million  people  who  compose  the  population  of  the 
country;  but  the  appearance  of  the  strong  and 
healthy  men  and  women  does  not  confirm  what 
writers    in    that    melancholy    strain    have    put    on 


GALICIA   AND  ITS  PEOPLE 


29 


^i 


record.     The  very   maize   bread  which   forms    the 
basis  of  the  peasant's  food  has  been  maligned ;  yet 
no  one  ventures  to  belittle  porridge  as  an  article  of 
diet    for    the    conquering   Scot.     The    comely  and 
powerful  fisher-lasses  who  travel  the  East  Coast  in 
the  herring  season  do  not  live  in  luxury,  nor  do 
their  sisters  of  Galicia,  many  of  whom,  in  strength 
and  figure,  are  their  equals.      Where  the  fisher-girl 
drinks   coffee,  tea,  or   cocoa,  the   Gallegan   woman 
takes  wine ;  and  she  can  buy  a  tumblerful  of  very 
drinkable  liquor,  red  or  white,  for  a  halfpenny  ;  for 
another   halfpenny    she  can   get  a   piece   of  bread 
big  enough  for  a  sustaining  meal.      Even  a  Scotch- 
woman, however  canny,  would  be  hard  pressed  to 
make   a    midday  meal    at    the    cost    of   a    penny. 
Fruit,  too,  is  so  abundant  that  it  may  be  had  for 
the  picking,  and   vegetables   are   plentiful.      There 
are  grapes  everywhere ;    and  though   most   of  the 
chickens  and  bacon  go  into  the  towns  for  sale,  yet 
there  are  so  many  fowls  and  pigs  in  Galicia  that  the 
taste  of  poultry  and  pork  is  known  throughout  the 
country.      At  noon  on  the  roadside  working  men 
and   women    make    a   far   more   varied  meal   than 
the  rough    dinner    of   the    British    labourer.       In 
England,     when    the    streets    are    fog-bound,    and 
navvies  and  road-makers  are  content  to  make  shift, 
while  eating  and  drinking,  with  a  warm  ray  or  two 
from  a  neighbouring  watchman's  fire,  the  Galician 
worker  is  taking  a  midday  meal  on  the  shore  of 
some  glorious  bay  or  river,  or  on  the  hill-side  in 
romantic  scenery — and  in  almost  constant  sunshine. 


><''~U  ■    Mr 


so 


A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 


In  every  part  of  Galicia  there  are  quaint  round 
pigeon-cots.      Many  of  them  are  inckided  in  farm- 
buildings,  to  which  they  give  an  added  pi(;turesque- 
ness ;  others  are  perched  on  summits  of  slopes,  like 
lonely  watch-towers.      There   are   no   buildings    in 
England     which     have     the     appearance    of    these 
Galician    pigeon-houses,    but    there   are    a    few   in 
Scotland,  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Arbroath,  with  the 
same  characteristics.      The  Gallegan  cannot  aftbrd  to 
cultivate  pigeon-rearing  as  a  hobby,  and  with  him, 
as   with  many   Englishmen,  the  birds  are   kept   for 
eating  purposes.     Sentiment  is  vanquished  by  utility. 
Maize-barns,  or  granaries,   are    universal.      The 
granaries  are  oblong,  narrow  structures,  mostly  built 
of  granite,  but  sometimes  of  timber,  and  raised  on 
walls  or  pillars   about   a  man's  height   above   the 
level  of  the  ground.      They  are  noticeable  features 
of  every  landscape,  and  some  of  them  are  romantic- 
looking  buildings,  with  a  cross  at  one  gable  and  a 
pinnacle  at  the  other.      In  the  autumn  the  granaries 
are  filled  with  the  maize  which  has  been  gathered 
from  the  fields  and  stripped  and  dried  in  the  sun. 
On  village  pavements,  in  fields,  on  the  beach,  and  in 
all  sorts  of  odd  comers  the  cereal-  is  spread  out  to 
dry,   and    makes    glorious   golden    patches    in    the 
sunshine.     Women,  helped  by  children,  prepare  the 
maize  for  grinding  into  flour.     Primitive  methods  of 
grinding  are  employed,  and   crude  ways  of  baking 
and  cooking,  as  you  may  see  by  entering  a  Galician 
cottage  and  examining  the  open,  chimneyless  fire- 
place— the  big  stone  slab  on  which  the  fuel  burns. 


O 


A  GRANARY 


A  riG  EON-COT 


GAI.ICIA   AND  ITS  PEOPLE 


31 


The  cry  of  the  night-watchman,  the  sereno^  is  of  all 
Galicia'*s  old  customs  one  of  the  strangest  and  most 
famous.     The  sere  no  is  a  romantic  figure,  with  his 
Spanish  cloak  and  gleaming  pike — a  weapon  much 
resembling  the  halberd  carried  by  our  Yeomen  of 
the  Guard.     While  the  English  policeman  in  the  dark 
early  hours  is  gloomily  patrolling  his  beat,  his  fellow 
in  Galicia  is  pacing  the  quaint  streets  which  differ 
little    in    appearance    from    their    aspect    centuries 
ago,  and  every  hour  he  proclaims  the  time   or  in 
other  ways  gives  proof  that  he  is  about  and  doing 
his    duty.       The    ancient    town    of    Pontevedra    is 
celebrated     for      the      watchman's      call.       Hourly 
throughout  the  night  the  sereno  chants  the  time, 
and  the  sonorous  notes  of  his  "  Ave  Maria piirissima^^ 
Gabriers  salutation  to    the  Virgin,  has  a  singular 
effect  upon  the  stranger,  awake  and  listening  in  bed. 
The  accomplished  sereno  will  not  only  cry  the  hour, 
but  will  also,  for  the  benefit  of  listeners,  add  in- 
teresting items  of  news,  as,  for  instance,  that  love- 
making  is  proceeding  on  a  neighbouring  balcony. 
The  eerie  chant  lingers  in  one's  memory,  and  may 
be    likened    to    the    solemn    cry  from    a    steamer's 
crowVnest    in   mid-ocean  of  "Lights  are  burning 
bright  and  all's  well."     In   Santiago  and  elsewhere 
the  sereno  still  does  duty  in  the  night,  but  perhaps 
the    day  is  near  when  he   will  be  ousted   by   the 
commonplace  policeman.     In    many  of   the   towns 
the    watchman     whistles     every    hour    instead     of 
chanting.      There  are  other  cries  in  Galicia  which 
will  interest  the  visitor,  and  amongst  them  is  the 


32 


A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 


protracted  musical  announcements  of  the  girls  and 
women  of  Corunna  who  are  selling  fish.  They  walk 
along  the  pavement  with  wide,  shallow  baskets 
poised  gracefully  on  their  heads,  uttering  a  cry 
which  makes  you  marvel  that  human  beings  can 
maintain  it  without  bringing  on  that  collapse  of 
the  vocal  cords  which  perhaps,  in  uncharitable 
moments,  you  desire  to  see  accomplished. 

In  Galicia,  as  on  the  Continent  generally,  the 
policeman  differs  from  his  English  prototype. 
There,  in  addition  to  being  a  keeper  of  the  peace, 
he  is  a  fighting  man,  liable  to  be  called  upon  for 
military  service.  The  famous  Civil  Guard  of  Spain, 
a  force  which  bears  the  highest  reputation,  every 
member  being  a  specially  selected  man  of  thoroughly 
good  character,  has  its  detachments  in  Galicia — the 
striking-looking  fellows  with  their  glazed  three- 
cornered  hats,  rifles,  swords,  and  revolvers.  A  couple 
of  them  are  on  duty  at  the  exit  of  every  railway 
station  of  importance,  and  on  lonely  country  roads, 
marching  on  each  side,  you  will  come  across  a  pair, 
carrying  their  rifles  at  the  slope,  prepared  for  action. 
The  purpose  of  this  system  of  patrol  is  to  lessen 
the  risk  of  both  men  being  surprised  at  once. 

The  Civil  Guards  exercise  a  wide  influence  over 
the  people,  and  to  them  is  largely  due  the  present 
peaceful  state  of  the  country.  The  total  strength 
of  the  force  is  twenty-five  thousand  men,  of  whom 
five  thousand  are  mounted.  The  cavalry  are  armed 
with  sabres,  carabines,  and  revolvers.  Comparison 
has  been   made  between  them  and  the  Royal  Irish 


GALICIA  AND  ITS  PEOPLE 


33 


Constabulary,  and  it  is  a  very  proper  one,  although 
I  think  the  Royal  Irish  is  physically  a  finer  body. 
The  Civil  Guards  have  great  powers,  and  are  entitled 
to  take  the  law  into  their  own  hands  in  extremities, 
such  as  shooting  down  an  escaping  prisoner  or  a 
murderer  caught  in  the  act. 

There  is  perfect  security  in  travelling  through- 
out Galicia,  either  alone  or  in  parties,  and  even  in 
the  remotest  districts  the  idea  of  personal  danger, 
from  man  or  beast,  does  not  enter  the  visitor's 
mind.  Probably  there  is  not  in  North- West  Spain 
any  greater  risk  incurred  than  would  be  experienced 
by  pedestrians  from  tramps  on  the  highways  of 
North-West  England. 

The  ordinary  Galician  policeman  is  very  much  like 
a  Spanish  soldier  in  appearance,  except  in  Corunna, 
where  he  wears  a  helmet.  His  sword  is  ready  to 
his  hand,  and  he  often  carries  a  revolver  and  a  stick. 
He  is  permitted  to  smoke  on  duty  ;  and  perhaps  not 
even  the  iron  discipline  of  the  Civil  Guard  would 
compel  the  members  of  the  force  to  abandon  the 
cigarette.  A  Galician  policeman  being  at  heart  a 
caballero—yfhich  is  "gentleman'' — will  spare  no 
trouble  to  put  a  stranger  on  the  right  track,  and  will 
not  only  direct  him  to  the  place  he  wishes  to  reach, 
but  will,  in  the  friendliest  manner,  accompany  him 
as  far  as  his  duties  will  permit,  smoking  contentedly 
and  well  pleased  with  life. 

I  saw  only  one  policeman  on  stern  duty  in 
Galicia,  and  that  was  in  Vigo,  where  he  was  con- 
ducting   a  belligerent    lady    to    the   police-station. 


\\ 


\\ 


34  A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 

guiding  her  by  a  gentlemanly  pressure  on  the  arm. 
She  was  loudly  and  volubly  giving  her  version  of 
what  had  happened ;  and  a  crowd  of  bareheaded  or 
shawled  friends  added  their  voices  to  the  confusion. 
They  were  all  probably  swearing  to  things  which 
they  could  not  possibly  have  seen.  At  Vigo  also 
I  noticed  a  constable,  old  enough  to  be  near  the 
superannuation  stage,  trying  to  preserve  the  peace 
between  an  aged  peasant  and  an  ill-conditioned 
juvenile  who  might  have  been  his  grandson.  At 
intervals  the  old  man  paused  to  cuff  and  persuade 
the  boy,  and  the  policemen  seemed  to  form  one  of 
the  little  crowd  which  accompanied  and  watched 
the  performers.  I  followed  them  for  a  short  dis- 
tance ;  then,  as  there  was  no  prospect  of  an  arrest, 
I  walked  away. 

The  constable  in  every  land  attracts  one's  notice 
and  commands  respect.  Much  at  times  depends 
on  him  ;  also  on  chambermaids  and  waiters.  Both 
these  types  of  servant  compel  attention  in  Galicia, 
if  only  for  their  odd  and  interesting  habits.  A 
Galician  chambermaid,  who  from  her  appearance 
might  be  anything  from  a  respectable  charwoman 
to  the  mother  of  a  promising  family,  does  not  know 
the  meaning  of  ceremony  ;  at  any  rate  she  does  not 
stand  upon  it,  and  will  break  into  your  bedroom 
with  the  morning  coffee  without  warning,  and 
derive  intense  amusement  from  any  timidity  or 
embarrassment  due  to  her  abrupt  appearance.  She 
is  too  primitive  to  be  disturbed  by  trifles,  even  such 
as  gazing  upon  her  when  she  tucks  up  to  skep  on  a 


GALICIA  AND  ITS  PEOPLE 


35 


I 


couch  in  the  hall  of  an  hotel  at  the  foot  of  the 
main  staircase — a  post  she  occupies,  apparently, 
to  meet  the  necessities  of  belated  or  early-going 
travellers. 

The  Galician  waiter  is  remote  from  the  rest  of 
his  kind.      In  the  two  palatial  establishments  which 
the  country  possesses  he  figures,  during  the  season, 
either    in    orthodox    swallow-tails  or    a   livery  ap- 
proximating   to    the    garb    of   club    attendants  at 
home,  but  generally  speaking  he  is  not  so  smart. 
In  the  morning  he  presents  a  slovenly  appearance, 
because  breakfast,  as  Englishmen  understand  it,  is 
either  an  unimportant  or  a  non-existent  meal,  and 
the  waiter  is  reserving  his  energies  for  the  feast  that 
counts,  the  lunch.      The  native  is  content  to  start 
the  day  on  coffee  and  a  roll  without  butter — for 
which  omission  he  has  reason  for  gratitude,  because 
Galician  butter  is  neither  good  nor  plentiful — or 
on  a  small    cup  of   chocolate    and    bread.      If   he 
favours  coffee  he  takes  it  from  a  basin,  with  which  a 
dessert-spoon  is  supplied,  enabling  him  to  deal  with 
the  liquid  as  he  would  absorb  soup,  or  he  drinks 
it.    Christian  fashion,  by   way  of  the   vessel's  rim. 
The  chocolate  is  a  concoction  so  thick  that  a  spoon 
or  bread  will  stand  upright  in  it ;  yet  the  prepara- 
tion is  delicious  in  the  estimation  of  those  who  like 
it,  especially  when  taken  with  a  frothy  sugar,  which 
is   served   in   a   glass  of  water — a    creation   which 
looks  like  frozen  beaten  white  of  egg,  and  is  almost 
large    enough     to    fill    the    tumbler.       With    this 
chocolate  and  bread  the  Spaniard  bears  the  burden 


■I 


36  A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 

of  the  day's  battle  until  the  real  breakfast  is  served  ; 
then  indeed  he  makes  up  for  any  loss  he  may  have 
suffered  after  rising. 

The  midday  meal  is  heavy  and  bewildering,  from 
the    English    point    of   view.       Hors'iTo^nvre   will 
begin    the     feast — excellent    olives,    sardines,    an- 
chovies, appetising  httle  salads  and  other  oddments ; 
then   come  heavier  dishes,  succeeded  by  soup  and 
fisli_all    things    reversed,   as    it   seems,   compared 
with  English  order  and  arrangements.      There  is  a 
very   palatable    and    wholesome    dish    called    caldo 
Gallego,  SL  soup  which  is  as  peculiar  to  Galicia  as  is 
bouillabaisse  to  Marseilles.      Incidentally  I  may  say 
that  1  had  bouillabaisse  as  good  in  a  Galician  hotel 
as  in  one  of  the  best  hotels  of  France's  southern 
seaport  where  I  tried  it — a  dish  which  would  have 
moved  even  Thackeray,  its  great  admirer,   to  ex- 
pressions of  applause. 

"  This  Bouillabaisse  a  noble  dish  is — 

A  sort  of  soup,  or  broth,  or  brew, 
Or  hotch-potch  of  all  sorts  of  fishes. 

That  Gremwich  never  coidd  outdo ; 
Green  herbs,  red  peppers,  mussels,  saffron. 

Soles,  anions,  garlic,  roach,  and  dace  : 
All  these  you  eat  at  Terre's  tavern. 

In  that  one  dish  of  Bouillabaisse.'^ 

You  may  not  eat  all  these  good  things  in  the 
Galicia  bouillabaisse  as  Thackeray  did  at  Terre's 
tavern  in  Paris;  but  the  caldo  Gallego  is  as  rich 


r> 


-"•^- 


If 


t 


I  ( 


,1 


V 


I 


o 
c 

X 

^* 

o 

>- 

PS 


ff 


GALICIA  AND  ITS  PEOPLE 


37 


and  varied  in  vegetables  as  bouillabaisse  is  in  marine 
delicacies.  The  caldo  Gallego  has  the  advantage 
of  freedom  from  that  taint  of  garlic  which  is  so 
repellant  to  the  English  palate. 

A  peculiarity  of  service  in  Galician  public  dining- 
rooms  is  the  piling  up  of  plates  before  you.  The 
stack  is  gradually  lessened  as  you  get  through  the 
courses.  Free  use  may  be  made  of  your  private 
cutlery  to  help  yourself  to  salt  and  pepper,  after 
the  custom  of  the  Continent.  The  wine  is  placed 
on  the  table  either  in  bottles  or  decanters.  There 
is  a  tendency  to  tire  of  the  wine  and  crave  for 
English  beer.  This  is  obtainable  in  the  principal 
hotels  and  cafes,  but  only  at  a  heavy  charge,  a 
bottle  of  ale  costing  more  than  a  bottle  of  ordinary 
Being  specially  brewed  for  export,  the  beer 


wHie. 


is  not  equal  to  the  article  which  is  bought  at  home. 
Very  good  Spanish  lager  can  be  had,  especially  in 
Vigo,  at  the  bar  in  the  Calle  Velazquez  Moreno, 
opposite  the  post  and  telegraph  office.  At  that 
place,  also,  excellent  afternoon  tea  is  served.  To 
my  regret  and  financial  loss,  I  did  not  discover 
this  welcome  retreat  until  two  or  three  days  before 
the  Antony  bore  me  from  Galicia. 

By  the  time  dejeuner  is  served  the  waiter  has 
become  himself.  He  has  assumed  a  collar  and  a 
dinner-jacket,  and  bustles  round  with  every  wish  to 
please  his  customers.  He  takes  a  real  interest  in 
them,  and,  given  proper  treatment  and  considera- 
tion, there  is  no  trouble  to  which  he  will  not  go 
to  meet  an  expressed  or  implied  wish.      He  can  be 


II 


38 


A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 


led  like  a  lamb,  but  if  any  sign  is  shown  of  driving 
him  he  displays  the   mule's   unpleasant   attributes. 
I  remember  that  at  one  hotel,  into  the  dining-room 
of  which  I  wandered  early    in    the    mornings,    an 
elderly  waiter,  eoatless  and  collarless,  with  a  soiled 
napkin  over  his  arm,  ignored  my  existence   for  a 
day    or    two.      He    was   performing  the  task  of  a 
frotteur,  skating,  in  melancholy,  meditative  fashion, 
over  the  polished  wooden  floor,  with  a  rag-bundle  on 
his  right  foot.      He  would  slide  past  with  an  air 
of   almost    grotesque  seriousness,  so  intent  on  his 
work  that  he  failed  to  see  me  ;  at  least  that  was 
the  impression  made  on  my  mind.      Commands  in 
ordinary  English  to  produce  some  breakfast  failed 
to  move  him  ;  yet  when,  in  due  course,  on  entering 
the  room,  I  greeted  him  as  a  man,  a  brother,  and 
especially  a  caballero,  he  skated    elegantly    to    the 
mysterious  region  where  the  coffee  was  prepared,  and 
ceremoniously  produced  not  only  coffee  and  rolls,  but 
also  butter.    One  morning  I  desired  Rocquefort — to 
his  polite  but  palpable  amazement — and  thereafter 
he  conceived  that  no  British  breakfast  was  complete 
without  the  cheese  concomitant.      At  this  hotel  the 
butter    was    very  good — a  native  product  with   a 
cheesy  flavour;  in  other  hotels   Danish    butter    in 
tins  was  provided.      Galicia   can   produce  first-rate 
butter,  yet  the  Gallegans  go  to  Denmark   for  the 
article,  and  bring  it  over  land    or    sea — or    both 
—  in     tins.       One     of     the     remarkable     things 
about    Galicia     is    that    although   the    country    is 
so    productive,    still    in    many   cases    there  are  no 


GALICIA  AND  ITS  PEOPLE 


39 


1 


adequate  systems  of  making  the   most   of  natural 

resources. 

A   great   change,  however,  is  taking  place,   and 
some  of  the  richest  and  most  enterprising    public 
men  in  North-West  Spain   are  devoting  themselves 
with  enthusiastic  zeal  to  the  task  of  awakening  the 
people  and  making  them  realise  the  immense  possi- 
bilities   of   the    province.     Energetic  measures  for 
development    are  being    taken    by   the   Asociacion 
para  el  Fomento  del  Turismo  en   Galicia,  of  which 
prominent  members  are  Messrs.   Miguel  Fernandez 
I^ma,  ex-Lord  Mayor  of  Vigo ;  Manuel  Olivie,  the 
Town  Clerk,  who  is  a  well-known  author  ;  Eladio  de 
Lema,    Director,   El   Faro  de    Vigo;  Jaime   Solar, 
Director,    Notkiero    de     Vigo    and    Vida    Gallega ; 
Manuel  Borrajo,  President,  Asociacion  de  Cultura ; 
Angel  Bernandez,  writer  and  secretary  of  the  Aso- 
ciacidn  Fomento  Turismo  ;  Guillermo  de  Oya,  Presi- 
dent of  the  Asociacion,  and  Dr.  Ildefonso  Zabaleta, 
Medical  Officer  of  Health  for  Vigo  Harbour.      Mr. 
Frederico  Barreras  Masso,  one  of  Vigo's  most  dis- 
tinguished citizens,  is  doing  much  to  bring  Galicia 
into  closer  union  with  Great  Britain,  and  all  these 
efforts  are  being  zealously  fostered  and  supported  by 
residents   like    Mr.    Ricardo  Rodriguez    Pastor,    of 
Corunna;  Mr.   Thomas   Guyatt,   the  British  Vice- 
Consul  at  Corunna  ;  and  Mr.  R.  Walker,  the  British 
Vice-Consul  at  Villa  Garcia. 

Most  of  Galicia's  business  is  transacted  in  the 
open  air,  and  much  of  it  concerns  the  handling  of 
live  stock.      In    the    larger    towns,    like   Santiago, 


'.  » 


40 


A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 


there  is  a  weekly  cattle  market,  where  dealers  and 
peasants  assemble  from  the  surrounding  country, 
travelling  by  diligence,  bullock-cart,  pony,  mule,  or 
on  foot,  and  making  a  wonderful  congregation  of 
human  beings,  from  the  pure  gipsy  type  to  the 
thorough  Gallegan.  Girls  and  women  are  every- 
where, driving  cattle,  carrying  great  round  baskets 
crammed  with  fowls,  which  are  kept  quiet  and  in 
place  because  their  legs  are  tied,  or  piloting  pigs. 
Native  swine  are  not  amenable  to  discipline,  and  the 
custom  is  to  tie  a  rope  or  piece  of  string  to  one  of 
the  hind  legs  and  let  the  beast  go  ahead.  In  the 
market  the  squealing  animals  are  imprisoned  by  this 
method.  Sometimes  a  quicker  system  is  adopted — 
that  of  conveying  pigs  in  sacks  slung  pannier-wise 
across  the  back  of  a  mule  or  pony.  This  practice 
does  not  apply  to  full-grown  animals ;  it  is  the 
smaller  fry  that  are  subjected  to  the  indignity. 

At  Santiago  market  a  peasant  drove  a  mule  past 
me  with  two  sacks  from  the  depths  of  which  came 
muffled  screams.  He  shook  the  sacks,  and  from 
each  a  little  pig  was  shot  to  the  ground,  uttering 
piercing  squeals,  then,  after  the  hind  leg  had  been 
secured,  settling  into  a  continuous  grunt  of  protest. 
Bargaining  and  wrangling  were  going  on  all  round 
me,  to  the  accompaniment  of  choruses  of  squeals 
and  grunts,  crowing  of  cocks,  cackling  of  hens,  and 
lowing  of  cattle.  Business  was  conducted  on  simple 
lines — prodding  of  pigs'*  ribs,  examining  of  oxen"*s 
mouths  and  other  points,  and  lifting  and  calculat- 
ing the  weight  and  general  promise  of  table   and 


GALICIA  AND  ITS  PEOPLE 


41 


A  CATTLE   MA11K?:T 


AN  Ol'EX-AlR  MARKET 


laying  birds.  Prices  having  been  arranged,  payment 
was  made  ;  and  I  was  surprised  to  see  how  many  fat 
silver  dollars  were  poured  from  ancient  purses  and 
money-bags  by  peasants  whose  appearance  conveyed 
the  impression  that  they  were  almost  destitute. 
Pontevedra  is  a  great  cattle  centre,  and  enormous 
markets  are  held  there  two  or  three  times  a  year. 
Herds  of  cattle  monopolise  the  roads  at  these 
seasons,  making  motoring  and  driving  a  slow  and 
laborious  business. 

This  universal  open-air  life  is  in  marked  con- 
trast to  the  dark  and  unwholesome  dwellings  of 
the  lower  classes  in  Galicia.  The  cottages  in  the 
country  districts  are  in  many  cases  mere  hovels  of 
the  most  primitive  type,  often  enough  without 
windows  and  admitting  light  only  by  the  doorway. 
Fowls  and  quadrupeds  share  the  establishments  with 
their  owners,  and  pigs  grunt  joyously  in  the  room 
where  the  master  and  mistress  and  children  take 
their  rest — frequently  on  a  bed  as  crude  and 
dirty  as  that  on  which  the  porkers  sleep.  In  this 
respect  the  Gallegan  peasant  somewhat  resembles 
his  prototype  who  is  found  in  country  places  in 
Ireland  which  are  remote  from  towns.  In  the 
principal  centres  of  population,  however,  the  people 
are  much  better  housed  and  the  municipalities 
exercise  a  far  more  rigid  sanitary  supervision. 

Most  things  are  done  in  Galicia  on  the  seduc- 
tive system  of  manana — to-morrow.  It  is  useless  to 
attempt  to  hurry  people.  Not  even  the^  demands 
of  telegraphy   will   rouse  them   to  robust  activity. 


I 


i^ 


,  I 


42  A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 

To  send    a  telegram   is   a  serious   and    impressive 
undertaking.     First  you  find  your  telegraph  office, 
which   even   in  a   city  like    Santiago   is  hidden   in 
the  shadow    of   the    cathedral.     Then   you    enter, 
and  discover  that  you  are  in  the  wrong  part  of  the 
premises,  being  in  the  operating  office.     A  cigar  is 
burning  on  the  table,  while  the  clerk  to  whom  it 
belongs  is  talking  with  his  colleague,  the  transmitter 
meanwhile   tapping    lazily.      Even    the   instruments 
seem  to   be   possessed  with   the  spirit  of  languor. 
Finally    an    individual    comes    who,   after    showing 
almost   pained   surprise   at  your  unseemly   energy, 
conducts  you  to  the  proper  place,  and  ceremoniously 
gives  you  a  telegraph  form  and  a  pencil.     When 
the   message  has  been  written  and  handed  in,  and 
you  have  put  down  your  payment,  you  reasonably 
assume  that  the  exhausting  transaction  is  completed, 
and  that  you  are  free  to  depart.     Not  so— you  are 
in  Spain,  where  hurry  is  indecency.     The  change  is 
not  ready,  and   when  it  does  appear  the  coins  are 
accompanied  by  a  triangular  receipt  torn  from  the 
message,  giving  details  of  the  telegram  and  the  price 
which    has   been  paid  for  it.     Then   triumphantly 
you  go  away,  blessing  Spain ;  but  the  fervour  of 
your   benediction    is  nothing   compared  with  your 
expressions  on   learning  that  the  telegram  has  not 
been    delivered    in   England  because  of  a  misread 
address.      It  is  useless  either  to  wail  or  to  protest, 
since  the   one  would  be  ineffective  and  the  other 
too  late.     Stamps  are  bought  mostly  at  your  hotel, 
where  the  letter-box    is    kept    to   be  emptied   by 


,    « 


r 


GALICIA  AND  ITS  PEOPLE 


43 


the  postman.  There  are  no  street  pillar-boxes  in 
Galicia.  I  saw  one,  a  ramshackle,  red-painted 
structure,  bearing  a  resemblance  to  a  rabbit-hutch, 
hung  outside  a  general  store-shop  in  a  village,  and 
gathered  that  the  enterprise  shown  in  displaying 
the  receptacle  was  unexampled.  When  an  ordinary 
post  office  is  not  available  it  is  customary  to  place 
letters  in  the  hotel  box. 

It  cannot  be  said  that  Galicia  is  rich  in  works 
of  art.  Some  of  the  paintings  which  adorn  the 
churches  are  neither  very  good  nor  interesting,  nor 
are  the  examples  in  the  castles  such  as  to  claim 
more  than  passing  notice.  But  travellers  will 
not  journey  to  the  country  for  the  sake  of  seeing 
what  they  can  get  so  well  at  the  Louvre,  the 
National  Gallery,  the  Tate  Gallery,  the  Wallace 
Collection  and  elsewhere.  They  will  go  to  see  the 
land  and  its  people,  and  to  wander  through  the 
old-world  streets  and  squares  and  market-places, 
which  have  charms  unrivalled  in  any  region  within 
such  easy  reach  of  England. 

Two  things  are  inseparable  from  the  Galician — 
his  cigarette  and  his  umbrella.  His  tobacco  is 
cheap,  and  much  of  it  is  good,  so  that  he  can  enjoy 
at  little  cost  the  weed  which  is  as  much  a  man's 
necessity  as  luxury.  For  cinco  centimos,  a  coin 
which  sounds  imposing,  but  whose  value  is  less  than 
a  halfpenny,  he  can  get  seven  hand-made  cigarettes. 
True,  when  I  bought  two  packets  from  a  dark 
Spanish  lady  in  a  darker  shop  she  warned  me  that 
they    were    known    as  "  men-killers,'"    but    I    have 


1 


44  A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 

smoked  worse  in  England  at  a  higher  price.  The 
better  qualities  are  relatively  cheap.  The  Galician 
cigarette  is  made  of  dark,  dry,  loose  tobacco,  rolled 
in  a  gumless  paper,  with  the  ends  folded  to  keep 
the  particles  from  escaping. 

The  umbrella  answers  two  purposes — to  keep  the 
rain  off  in  wet  weather  and  to  serve  as  a  shelter 
from  the  sun.  I  observed  men  with  umbrellas 
slung  at  their  sides  under  their  coats,  like  swords, 
and  I  suppose  the  crook-shaped  handles  were  sus- 
pended from  hooks  stitched  to  the  waistcoats. 

At  every  turn  there  is  something  unexpected  in 
Galicia.     On  going  back  to  my  hotel  one  night  I 
wished    to    develop    some    films.       I    had    neither 
chemicals  nor  means  of  doing  the  work,  but  learned 
that  in  the  village  there  was  a  competent  operator 
who  would    develop    the   exposures.      I    asked    for 
directions  as  to  how  and  where  I  should  find  the 
skilled    performer.      It  was  long  before   I    learned 
that  he  lived  in  a  house  at  the  top  of  the  village. 
A  guide  was  needful,  and  he  came— a  waiter  from 
the  hotel,  carrying  a  paper  lantern  with  a  candle. 
He  led  the  way  across   a   field,  then  up  a  rugged 
path,  puddled  with  recent  rain,  and  from  that  to 
the   rocky,   steep   bed   of   a    little  "stream  running 
down    the    side    of   a    hill    they    call    the    Devil's 
Boulders.      The  scene  was  such  as  may  be  found  in 
Morocco,  when  the  Moor  or  negro  who  pilots  you 
carries  his  ancient  lamp  to  light  your  path,  or  in 
the  Catskills,  or  the  Middle  West,  where  the  same 
friendly  office  has  been  performed  for  me  in  the  dark- 


GALICIA  AND  ITS  PEOPLE 


45 


ness  when  crossing  lonely  fields  or  penetrating  woods. 
Up  the  gulley  for  some  hundreds  of  yards,  now 
stumbling  on  a  small  boulder,  now  plunging  into 
deep  mire  with  a  prickly,  unseen  bough  unex- 
pectedly touching  your  face  or  hands — then  a  halt 
at  a  gateway  leading  from  the  gulley,  and  a  hail  to 
which  there  was  no  answer.  Up  the  gulley  still 
farther,  and  a  pause  and  rattle  at  another  gate, 
through  which  a  light  could  be  seen,  and  the 
answering  hail.  Then  came  an  elderly  man  with 
a  lighted  candle  and  begged  us  to  enter.  We 
descended  two  or  three  stone  stairs,  crossed  a  small 
flagged  yard,  and  went  into  a  store-room,  with 
heaps  of  onions  lying  on  the  floor  and  other  food 
and  articles  dimly  outlined  by  the  candle  and  the 
lantern.  Thence  we  went  into  a  comfortable  living- 
room,  where  a  woman  who  was  busy  with  her 
mending  smiled  upon  us,  and  a  little  girl  gazed  at 
me  something  after  the  manner  in  which  in  the 
days  of  our  youth  we  believed  that  our  forefathers, 
as  children,  would  have  looked  upon  Napoleon  if 
they  had  seen  him  in  the  flesh.  This  was  the  house 
of  the  photographer — a  farmer;  but  he  had  no 
means,  he  explained,  of  getting  artificial  light  for 
developing,  and  must  wait  till  daylight  before  he 
could  fulfil  his  task.  The  films  were  left,  and  the 
farmer  led  us  through  his  vineyard  to  the  gate. 
Before  we  reached  the  gulley  which  was  our  home- 
ward path  he  explained  that  a  clear  little  stream 
ran  through  his  grounds,  and  that  in  it  he  washed 
his  films,  plates,  and  prints. 


\\ 


i 


46  A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 

Vineyards  are  everywhere  in  Galicia,  and  some 
of  their  wines  are  excellent,  notably  those  from  the 
districts  of  Orense,  Amandi,  Valdeorras,  and  Rivero. 
On  the  self-contained  estate  of  Mondariz  a  first- 
rate  wine  is  grown  which  is  provided  free  for 
visitors.  In  most  places  the  hotel  charges  include 
wine.  Occasionally  the  vintage  is  not  palatable 
enough  to  suit  the  traveller,  but  at  a  very  small 
cost  a  superior  brand  may  be  had  to  take  the  place 
of  the  unsatisfactory  product.  A  capital  red  wine 
is  served  without  charge  at  lunch  and  dinner  on 
board  the  Booth  liners. 

There  is  abundance  of  wine  in  the  country  ;  but 
some  of  the  peasants  do  not  take  it,  preferring  the 
pure   water    from    the    hills.     The  vast    majority, 
however,  are   wine-drinkers;  yet  there   is  none    of 
that  degrading  drunkenness  which  one  may  see  in 
every  part  of  Britain.      I  noticed  only  one  intoxi- 
cated person  in  Galicia,  and  that  was  on  a  Sunday 
afternoon    at    Caldas,  when    an    aged    peasant,    in 
frilled  knickers,  was  staggering  down  the  road,  as 
near  the  middle  as  he  could  keep,  but  occasionally 
lurching  towards  the  gutter  and  the  walls  of  the 
houses.       He    was    perfectly    harmless,    and     very 
affable,    and    occasionally    paused    and    supported 
himself   against    a    house    side    and    reproved    the 
juveniles   who    followed    him    and    offered    pointed 
criticisms    on    his    state.     The    spectacle  was    rare 
enough    to   claim  attention   and   provoke   derision. 
In  England  the  toper  would  have  been  unnoticed. 
In  the  principal  towns  there  is  at  least  one  club. 


GAIJCIA  AND  ITS  PEOPLE 


47 


and  the  stranger  has  no  difficulty  in  getting  ad- 
mission for  the  purpose  of  seeing  the  newspapers 
and  spending  a  pleasant  hour.  The  English 
clubman  shrinks  from  the  vulgar  public  gaze,  but 
in  Galicia  the  member  loves  to  be  as  near  his 
fellow-creatures  as  he  can  get.  Usually  he  sits  at 
an  open  window  on  the  street  level,  within  easy 
touching  distance  of  the  passer-by.  The  clubmen, 
like  all  the  residents  of  the  country  with  whom  the 
visitor  may  come  in  contact,  are  most  hospitably 
disposed  towards  him. 

The  British  tourist  has  become  accustomed  in 
his  own  country  to  hotels  which  are  more  than 
comfortable — they  are  luxurious — and  when  he  is 
abroad  he  expects  their  equal.  In  Galicia,  imtil 
recently,  he  could  not  get  it;  yet  now,  at 
Mondariz  and  La  Toja,  he  has  the  choice  of 
palatial  establishments  which  are  unrivalled  in 
Spain.  The  visitor  may  reach  Galicia  by  way  of 
the  Channel,  spending  about  three  days  in  trains, 
or  journey  direct  by  sea,  landing  at  the  gate  of 
Galicia,  which  is  Vigo.  For  that  part  of  the 
undertaking  he  is  thoroughly  equipped  by  the 
Booth  Steamship  Company,  Limited,  whose  power- 
ful and  splendid  modern  vessels  have  the  reputation 
of  being  the  most  comfortable  of  all  that  cross  the 
Bay  of  Biscay. 


\\ 


II 


L-  »«i 


',  i 


SAN    SIMON'S   ISLAND,   VIGO    BAY 


CHAP.  II 
VIGO  BAY 
AND  HILLS 


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CHAFrER  II 

VIGO  BAY  AND  HILLS 

Iron  cliffs  confront  you  when  you  first  behold 
Galicia,  for  the  earliest  glimpse  of  North-West 
Spain,  when  the  Biscay  has  been  crossed,  is  Cape 
Villano,  rising,  stem  and  rugged,  north  of  Finisterre 
The  coast  looks  grim  and  cheerless,  yet  it  is  the 
gate  to  one  of  Europe''s  warm  and  most  romantic 
regions.  Every  mile  of  it  is  linked  with  history, 
and,  hidden  in  what  look  like  gloomy  fastnesses  oi' 
the  Atlantic,  are  sun-bathed,  land-locked  bays,  of 
which  the  best  known  are  Vigo  and  Arosa,  forming 
two  of  the  finest  natural  harbours  in  the  world. 

The  Ambrose  slipped  past  the  Cies  Islands,  at  the 
seaward  side  of  Vigo  Bay,  in  tlie  darkness  of  an 
early  autumn  morning,  and  steamed  up  the  placid 
inland  sea  as  day  was  breaking.  In  Galicia  the 
dawn  and  twilight  are  briefer  and  more  splendid 
than  in  En<i:l.uid.  The  Cies  Islands  are  some  fifteen 
miles  from  Vigo,  and  the  Ambrose,  steaming  steadily, 
will  do  the  distance  in  an  hour.  Her  masthead 
and  side  lights  were  burning  brightly  as  slie  passed 
the  lonely  lumps  of  land  which  jut  up  like  ragged 


( 


52 


A  COUNKll  OF  SPAIN 

teeth  OH  Galieias  seaboard;  yet  when  her  cable 
rattled  and  her  anchor  dropped  within  a  stones- 
throw  of  the  jetty  the  sun  was  shining  and  the  day 
had  fully  broken.  Through  my  porthole  I  had 
seen  the  flashing  light  on  the  islands,  and  I  had 
hurried  up  on  deck  to  watch  the  sun  rise  in  the 
east,  beyond  the  church  topped  hill  which  forms 
one  of  the  Seven  Sisters.  The  Seven  Sisters  are 
hills  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Vigo,  each  being 
crowned  with  a  church  and  bearing  a  special  name, 
such  as  Nuestra  Senora  de  Alba. 

Vigo   is   Galicia's   chief  portal,   and   offers   ready 
means  of  access  to  the  other  parts  of  the  province. 
The  town  affords  wonderful   contrasts  between   the 
old  and  new  worlds  which  jostle  up    against   each 
other    in   every   part   of   North-West    Spain.      You 
are  in  a  quaint,  strange  world  as  soon   as  you  have 
stepped  ashore  and   are  clear  of  the  Customs  and 
free  to  roam.      In   the  steep  and  narrow  streets  of 
the  old  town  people  lead  the  primitive  life  of  many 
generations  or  centuries  ago.       Amongst  them  are 
men  clad   in   brigand  fashion,  with  sombreros,  and 
shawls    thrown    over     their     shoulders — shawls     so 
showy  and  highly  coloured  that  they  might  well  do 
duty  as  table-cloths.      You  may  pass  from   such  a 
sight  into  the  thoroughly  modern  technical  school, 
which,     founded    by     private     and     philanthropic 
enterprise,  is  equal  to  any  institution  of  its  size  in 
any  corresponding  English  town,  and  is  helped  by 
the  municiimlity  to  the  extent  of  three  thousand 
pounds  a  year.      In  the  afternoon  the  senoritas  may 


V 


( 


VIGO  BAY   AND  HILLS 


53 


learn  dressmaking  and  millinery  and  modelling  in 
clay ;  in  the  evening  the  caballeros  may  grapple 
with  appropriate  subjects,  under  competent  guidance. 
The  working  classes  are  educated  free  of  charge, 
and  the  better- to-do  pay  ten  pesetas — equal  to 
eight  shillings — a  year  for  mentd  culture. 

Just  outside  Vigo  ploughs  may  be  seen  which  are  as 
crude  as  those  the  conquering  Romans  used,  yet  in 
the  town  there  is  a  new  flour-mill  worked  by 
electric  power,  where  the  product  of  the  plough  is 
turned  into  flour,  and  only  a  few  men  are  needed  to 
attend  to  the  machinery.  Vigo  offers  many  of  the 
contradictions  between  the  very  old  and  the 
essentially  new  which  are  to  be  found  in  Galicia. 

There  is  not  much  to  see  in  the  way  of  public 
buildings ;  but  there  is  the  fish  market,  best 
visited  early  in  the  morning,  when  the  building  is 
crowded  with  women  who  are  buying,  selling,  and 
handling  the  catches  which  have  been  brought  in 
from  the  bay  and  the  Atlantic ;  and  the  vegetable 
market,  where  also  the  women  are  the  principal 
attendants.  These  two  places  give  evidence  of  the 
marvellous  fecundity  of  land  and  sea.  There  is 
abundance  of  fish  and  a  bewildering  display  of 
fruits  and  vegetables.  Many  of  the  creatures  of 
the  sea  are  strange  to  English  eyes,  and  not 
agreeable  to  English  palates.  There  is  the  re- 
volting devil-fish,  and  the  more  repulsive  ink-fish ; 
yet  both,  when  properly  cooked,  are  far  from 
unappetising,  and  the  tourist,  by  way  of  ex- 
periment,   may    have    the    fortitude    to    try   them. 


'f 


If 


II 

I 


54  A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 

The  sword-fish  makes  an  excellent  course;  and 
there  is  a  plentiful  supply  of  oysters  and  other 
shell-fish.  The  commonest  fish  of  all,  however, 
is  the  sardine.  It  is  larger  and  coarser  than 
the  sardine  with  which  English  people  are 
familiar,  being  the  size  of  a  small  herruig,  but 
it  makes  a  very  good  dish,  and  the  finest 
specimens,  when  cooked  in  oil  or  tomatoes  and 
packed  in  tins,  arc  delicious.  In  Vigo,  for  breakfast, 
vou  may  have  a  dish  of  big  sardines,  cooked  to 
your  liking,  which  have  formed  part  of  the  previous 

nighfs  catch. 

Vi.'o's    Alameda    skirts    the    glorious   bay,    and 
is  a  fine  promenade   along   which    one    may   stroll 
and    enjoy    the    scenery   and    study    something    of 
the  local  life.      The  road  is  smooth  and  asphalted, 
purely    modern,    yet     on     its     perfect    surface     an 
ancient  bullock-cart  will   come,  slowly  drawn    by 
oxen.       I    watched    one    of   these    vehicles     going 
towards   the   Custom-house,   pursued   by  an   enter- 
prising   Spanish    child,   who    watched    her    chance 
for   a   cheap  ride.       It    it    no    hard    matter,   even 
for    an    infant,    to    overtake    a    bullock-cart,     and 
the  girl  clambered  up  and  experienced  the  fearful 
joy  of  a  stolen   passage.       The  driver  was  somno- 
lent, and   the  journey  looked  promising,  until  he 
was' roused     to     action     by    the     raising     of    the 
Galician     equivalent     to     the     English     alarm     of 
"Whip  behind!"      For    a    moment    the    infant 
defied  him,  and  apparently  reflected  unfavourably 
on  the  driver's  origin;    but  a  swish  of  his  long 


♦ 


1) 


GALICIAX  CHILDREN 


AFRAID  OF  THE  CAMERA 


VIGO  BAY  AND  HILLS 


55 


driving-stick    made    her    tumble    off   precipitately. 
But   her   spirit   was   unchecked,  and,  pulling   her- 
self  together,    she    accompanied    him     at    a     safe 
distance    and    continued    her     taunting    criticism. 
I   took  a  snapshot   of   the  fractious   juvenile  just 
before   she   regained    the    asphalt,    and    while    she 
was    telling    her     compatriot    what     she     thought 
of   him ;     but    an    incompetent     developer    spoiled 
the    exposure,   as   he  ruined   many   others.      It    is 
a  comforting   reflection  now — such  is  the  mellow- 
ing  effect   of   time — that    though   he   was    unable 
to  appreciate   the   technical  advice  I  gave  him  in 
English,  yet  he  also   did  not  realise   the   force  of 
my  additional  remarks   when   I   criticised  his  work 
— indeed,   when    I   left  he   raised  his  hat,  and   in 
the     politest    and    most    polished     manner    wished 
me,  so  I  gathered,  continued  health  and  prosperity. 
The    Galician   who   has   wronged  you   has   a   won- 
drous  gift   fbr    making   you    imderstand   that  you 
are  the  offender. 

A  noble  view  of  the  surrounding  scenery  is 
obtainable  from  the  Castillo  del  Castro,  whose 
old  fortifications  are  more  than  four  hundred  feet 
above  the  level  of  the  bay.  As  the  castle  is  in 
the  nature  of  a  fortress  and  sentries  are  on  duty, 
admission  is  not  given  to  the  public,  but  the  visitor 
may  wander  about  freely,  and  the  climb  is  worth 
the  trouble  for  the  sake  of  the  panorama. 

Vigo  has  a  strong  and  enterprising  municipality, 
and  the  city  is  giving  evidence  of  what  can  be  done  by 
earnest  and  united  enterprise.      On  the  opposite  side 


^ 


56  A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 

of  the  bay,  for  example,  is  a  prosperous  community 
called  Moyna.      Eight  or  nine  years  ago  the  place 
consisted  of  only  a  few  houses ;  yet  to-day  the  green 
hill-side  is  dotted  with  white  buildings,  due  to  the 
development  of  the  fishing  industry.      Near  it  is  a 
little  village  nestling  in  a  hollow  at  the  foot  of  the 
mountains    which    rise    from    the  bay  in   a   fertile 
sweep  ;  so  sheltered  is  the  spot  and  so  balmy  is  the 
atmosphere,    so   continuous    and   beneficent   is    the 
sunshine,  that  from  the  water^s  edge  to  the  summit 
of  the  range,  palm-trees,  which  are  rare  in  Galicia, 
flourish  and  orange-trees  abound. 

On  every  side  there  are  majestic  views,  and  at 
the  head   of  the  bay,  rising  beautifully   from    the 
calm  blue  water,  is  the  island  of  San  Simon.      In 
ordinary  times  this  is  the  lazaretto,  or  quarantine 
station,    but     for    fifteen    years    it    has     not    been 
necessary  for  the  buildings  to  be  used  for  sickness 
or  suspected  cases.      San  Simon  is  one   of  Spams 
three  quarantine  stations,  the  other  two  being  at 
Santander,  on  the  Biscay  coast,  and  at  Port  Mahon, 
in    the   island   of  Minorca,  in   the  Mediterranean. 
The     little    island    overlooks    the    inlet    in    which 
treasure-ships   were    sunk    two    centuries  ago,   and 
the   buildings  upon   it   are   being  modernised    and 
equipped   with    scientific    apparatus    at    a    cost   of 
J>4000.     The  island  is  State  property,  but   it  is 
administered  from  Vigo  by  the  Director  of  Public 
Health,   with    the  co-operation  of    the  mayor  and 
corporation.       At    the    end   of    the   war    in    Cuba 
eight  thousand  repatriated  soldiers  were  treated  on 


VIGO  BAY  AND  HILLS 


57 


the  island,  and  it  speaks  well  for  the  healthiness  of 
the  place,  and  the  devotion  of  the  Sisters  of  Mercy 
and  the  skill  of  the  doctors,  that  only  sixty  died. 
There  is  a  delightful  avenue  of  boxwood-trees, 
spoiled,  unfortunately,  by  the  foolishness  of  a  former 
housekeeper  ;  excellent  boating  is  to  be  had ;  and 
just  by  the  island  there  are  first-rate  oyster-beds 
and  plentiful  fishing.  In  the  sand  a  small  fish  is 
found  which  has  a  habit  of  burying  itself,  and  at 
low  water  the  women  go  forth  and  dig  the  creature 
out  of  its  burrow. 

Nothing  can  be  more  peaceful  and  beautiful  than 
the  sail  down  Vigo  Bay  at  eventide,  after  spending 
a  few  hours  on  the  island ;  for  the  sun  is  setting  in 
the  Western  Ocean  and  flooding  Vigo  Bay  with 
golden  light,  against  which  the  seaward  hills  and 
Cies  Islands  stand  outlined  in  a  solemn  purple. 

Treasure  from  galleons  of  Spain  lies  buried  in 
Vigo  Bay.  The  story  goes  that  at  the  beginning  of 
the  seventeenth  century  allied  British  and  Dutch 
ships,  under  Admirals  Rooke  and  Stanhope,  attacked 
the  famous  Silver  Fleet,  which  was  lying  at  anchor, 
and  captured  much  of  the  gold  and  silver.  Some 
of  the  vessels  which  were  not  taken  were  sunk,  and 
their  precious  cargoes  foundered  with  them.  For 
more  than  two  hundred  years  the  galleons  have 
rested  at  the  bottom  of  the  bay.  Many  efforts 
have  been  made  to  recover  the  treasure,  but  Vigo 
Bay  is  deep,  and  so  far  the  attempts  have  not 
succeeded.  But  the  story  is  not  strictly  true,  nor 
is  it  correct    to   say  that   the    treasure-ships   were 


^,  • 


ill 


I 


I 


58  A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 

destroyed  just  at  the   entrance  of   the  bay.     The 
actual  place  of  their  ill-fortune  was  at  the  head  of 
the  bay,  towards  San  Simon's  Island,  where  there  is 
a  narrow  channel.     Two  centuries  ago  there  were 
fortifications  on  each  side  of  the  channel,  which  is 
called  the  Strait  of  Rande,  and  the  ruins  may  still 
be  seen  at  the  foot  of   the  hills.      At  that    time 
Cadiz    had    the    sole    right    to     receive    treasure 
from  Spain's  foreign  possessions,  and  to  that  port 
a  fleet  of  galleons  laden  with  precious  freight  was 
bound.      But    there    was    war    with    England    and 
Holland,  and  the  treasure-ships,  which  were    mer- 
chantmen, and  of  lighter  draught  than  the  opposing 
ships  of  war,  were  ordered  to  seek   shelter  at  the 
head  of  Vigo  Bay  ;  and  thither  they  scurried,  finding 
refuge  in  the  shallower  water  behind  the  entrance 
of   Rande.      A  chain  was  drawn  across  the  strait 
as    an   additional    protection.     For    several    weeks 
the  hunted  vessels  lay  securely  at  their  anchorage, 
and    meanwhile  much    of   the  treasure  was    taken 
ashore  for  conveyance  to  Madrid. 

Fifteen  hundred  treasure-laden  waggons,  drawn 
by  oxen,  started  for  the  capital.  There  is  a  saying 
in  Spain  that  he  who  handles  butter  will  get  greasy, 
and  by  the  time  Madrid  was  reached  the  fifteen 
hundred  waggon-loads  of  gold  and  silver  had 
dwindled  to  five  hundred;  so  that  two-thirds  of 
the  precious  cargoes,  having  escaped  the  clutches  of 
the  English  and  Dutch,  had  fallen  into  the  not 
less  rapacious  hands  of  Spaniards.  The  missing 
treasure   does   not  appear  to  have  been  recovered, 


\\ 


VIGO  BAY  AND  HILLS 


59 


but  in  Vigo  until  quite  lately  walking-sticks  and 
other  articles  could  be  bought  which  had  been 
made  from  wood  raised  from  the  sunken  galleons. 
I  asked  if  they  were  still  to  be  purchased,  and  was 
told  that  the  supply  had  run  out,  though  1 
gathered  that  I  should  have  no  difficulty  in  getting 
such  a  relic  made  to  order,  after  the  style,  I 
suppose,  of  momentoes  of  our  own  Roi/al  George, 

The  hills  surrounding  Vigo  Bay  command  most 

glorious  and  extensive  views.      On  one  of  them  is  the 

Castle  Mos,  a  summer  residence  of  the  Marquis  de 

la  Vega  de  Armijo,  the  head  of  one  of  the  noblest 

families  in  Spain.      As  castles  go,  it  is  not  large, 

but  by  reason  of  its   history  and    association  the 

building  is  amongst  the   most  famous   in    Galicia. 

The  late  King  of  Spain,  Alfonso  XII.,   visited   it 

three    times,  as    a    record    in    the    castle    testifies, 

during  the  residence  of  the  late  Marquis,  who  was 

Spain's    Prime    Minister,   and   died   in   Madrid   in 

1908.      He   was  taken    from    the    capital    to    the 

castle,  where  he  was  buried  beneath  the  floor  of  the 

tiny    private    chapel    in    which    he    had    so    often 

worshipped.      The  chapel  is  part   of    the    interior. 

Outside,  within  the  walls,  is  a  miniature  theatre,  in 

which  performers  and  audience  were  either  members 

of  the  family  or  visitors.     There  is  a  keep  which 

was   built    six   hundred  years  ago.      It    forms    the 

oldest    part    of   the    castle,    and    the  walls  are  so 

enormously  thick  that  to  look  through  one  of  the 

narrow   windows    is    like    gazing    down  a  corridor. 

The  main  room  is  a  small  armoury,  beneath  which 


\ 


* 


; 


60 


A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 


is  a  dark  apartment,   reached  by  a  ladder  from  a 
trap-door  in  the  floor.      This  basement,  now  used 
as  a  wine-cellar,  was  formerly  a  dungeon,  and  at 
one  time  held  a  bishop  prisoner.      The  castle  has 
been  modernised  inside,  and  in  recent  years  restora- 
tions have  been  made  to  the  exterior ;  but  neither 
within  nor   without    has    anything    been    done    to 
make  it  hard  for  the  visitor  to  picture  accurately 
the  former  house  of  a  grandee  of  Spain.     The  old 
keep  is  in  perfect  repair,  and  the  inner  and  outer 
walls  stand  as  they  were  when  wars  raged   fiercely 
in  Galicia.      The  muzzles  of  some  small  old  guns 
stick  out  of  the  embrasures,  and  you  can  raise  and 
lower  them  slightly,  for  their  trunnions  are  fixed  in 
iron  rings  let  into  the  walls,  and  one  can  realise 
what  a  slow  business  artillery  firing  was  in  the  days 
when  these   quaint,    open-breached    ordnance    were 
used  for  fighting.      I  was  told  that  the  guns  were 
captured  from  the  English  in  the  days  of  Elizabeth. 
The  castle  grounds  are  beautiful  and  extensive,  and 
full    of   charm    and    romance.       There    are    some 
magnificent  eucalyptus-trees;  fine  examples  of  the 
arbutus,  whose  fruit,  something  like  strawberries,  is 
rich    and    delicious;    orange-trees>   from  which,    in 
glorious     November     sunshine,    I    plucked    sweet 
tangerines  ;  and  the   botanical   curiosity    popularly 
known  as  the  monkey-puzzler.      Chestnuts  abound 
here,  as  in  Galicia  generally. 

Across  Vigo  Bay,  looking  like  a  white  streak  at 
the  foot  of  the  hills,  which  are  bare  and  bleak  at 
the  tops,  but  fresh  and  green  at  their  bases,  lies  the 


ON  THE  QUAY  AT  VIGO 


-"Vi 


FISHEKMKN'S  COTTAGES  AT  CANGA8 


\\ 


I : 


"^1  -' 


ij^ 


li 


t 


^^ 


^1! 


VIGO  BAY  AND  HILLS  61 

little  fishing  town  of  Cangas.      A  small  steamboat 
which  plies  regularly  between  the  two  places  makes 
the  journey  across  the  blue  water  in  half  an  hour, 
and  on  stepping  ashore  at  the  primitive  pier  you 
can  realise  what  Vigo  was  like  not  many  genera- 
tions ago.      There  is  no  plan  in  the  arrangement  of 
Cangas ;  the  houses  are  placed  where  they  fit  best, 
and  the  streets  follow  the  houses.      Oil-lamps  give 
illumination  to  the   straggling    thoroughfares,    yet 
inside  the  quaint  dwellings  there  is  electric  light. 
Cangas  has  its  old  church,  whose  dimensions  are  out 
of  all  proportion   to   the  size  of  the  town   to  the 
English    way    of   thinking,  and  smaller    places    of 
worship,  one  on  the  sands,  built  in  171 L 

The  church,  which  is  named  after  St.  James,  is 
dark  and  bleak  inside.      I    visited  it  the   morning 
after   All   Souls^  Day,  and  saw  in  the    middle    of 
the  floor  a  high  structure  covered  with  black  cloth 
and  ornamented  on  four  sides  with  skulls  and  cross- 
bones    in    white.      Rising    from    the    gloom,    after 
entering    the    church    from    the   brilliant  sunshine, 
the    reminder    of   the  grave  looked  ghastly.      The 
air    was    heavy    with    the    smell    of    incense,    and 
peasants  were  kneeling  and  praying.      One  old  man 
was    wiping    away  his  tears   and    gazing    at    some 
object    in    the    semi-darkness    which    I    could    not 
clearly  see.      I  walked  up  to  it,  and  saw  that  a  bier, 
black-cloth-covered,  with  the  skull  and  cross-bones 
in  white,  was  resting  on  the  floor.      On  the   bier 
was  an  open  black  coffin,  and  at  the  head  of  the 
rude,  oblonir  box   were    two    pillows    covered    with 


62 


A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 


dark   velvet.     On  the  top   pillow   was  a   grinning 
skull;  in    the    coffin    was  a  khaki-coloured    coarse 
robe,    like    a    friar's  habit,  and    from    the    sleeves 
peeped  the  bones  that  had  once  been  arms.      The 
grave-clothes  and  the  side  of  the  bier  were  thick  with 
spots  of  candle-grease.      A  child  came  up  as  I  bent 
over  the  coffin,  and  she  waggled  the  skull  to  and 
fro  with  hideous  effect,  for  it  seemed  to  nod.      She 
looked    at     me    and    smiled.       Here    was    all    the 
ghastliness  of  death  without  its  glorious  hope  and 
promise,   a   spectacle   that  was  meant  to  awe  and 
overpower,  yet  a  little  girl  was  unaffected  by  the 
grim   reminder  of  her  own  end.     Near  me   was   a 
door  through   which    the   sunshine   slanted,  and   I 
walked  out  into  the  free,  refreshing  air,  and  listened 
to  the  song  of  another  small  maid  who  was  nursing 
a  child.      She  was  one  of  the  prettiest  children  I 
saw  in  Galicia,  and  was  singing  a  song  which  I  was 
told  was   an  urgent   prayer  to   her  lover  to  come 
across  the  seas  and  rejoin  her. 

Most  of  the  men  of  Cangas  are  engaged  in  the 
sardine  fisheries,  and  on  the  beach  and  afloat  were 
many  of  their  fine  open  craft,  which  are  rowed 
by  sixteen,  eighteen,  or  twenty  oars,  and  can  be 
propelled  very  rapidly. 

At  times  the  fishermen  will  contract  to  sell  their 
catch,  whatever  it  may  be,  at  a  certain  price,  in 
which  case  they  are  assured  of  some  return  for  their 
labour ;  at  other  times  they  will  dispose  of  the  fish 
in  the  ordinary  way,  at  market  prices.  On  the 
north  side  of  Vigo  Bay,  as  on  the  south,  there  are 


VIGO  BAY  AND  HILLS 


63 


factories  where  sardines  and  other  fish  are  prepared 
and  packed  for  home  and  foreign  use.      One  of  the 
most  popular  and  interesting  sights  of  Vigo  is  the 
sardine    factory    of    Messrs.     Barreras,     beautifully 
situated  at  the  edge  of  the  bay,  to  the  east  of  the 
town.     It  is  fascinating  to  watch  the  treatment  of 
the  myriads  of  fishes  from  the  time  they  are  brought 
in  from  the  sea  to  the  moment  when  the  soldered 
box  is  ready  for  packing.      Only  a  few  hours  elapse, 
sometimes,   between  the    catching  of  the  fish  and 
the    exportation  of  the  finished  product.     Messrs. 
Barreras  build  their  own  steam  fishing-boats  entirely, 
catch  their  own  sardines,  and  carry  out  the  various 
processes  of  cleaning,  cooking,  tinning,  and  packing 
them    for    home    and    foreign    use.       The    sardine 
trade    is    one    of    the    most   important    of    Vigo's 
industries,  and  no  visitor  to  Galicia  should  fail  to 
inspect  one  of  these  busy  factories. 

Sunday  is    the    brightest    day   in  the   week    in 
Vigo,  for  then  the  band  plays  at  noon  and  evening 
in   the   Alameda,  and  the    people   promenade  and 
laugh  and   talk  incessantly ;    the   places  of  amuse- 
ment are  open,  and  the  theatre   provides  a  satis- 
factory finish  for  the  day's  enjoyment.     So  excellent 
is  the  climate  of  the  town  that  the  band  perform- 
ances take  place  in  the  open  air  even  in  the  winter 
months.      For  those  who  do  not  care  for  the  public 
entertainments   there  are  two  or  three  good  clubs. 
When  ships  of  war  visit  Vigo  the  officers  are  made 
honorary  members  of  clubs,  and  find  the  institutions 
very  useful  for  seeing  their  country's  newspapers. 


64 


A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 


VIGO  BAY  AND  IIIIXS 


65 


I  spent  many  interesting  days  in  Vigo.  Often, 
in  the  darkness  of  the  early  morning,  from  the 
balcony  outside  my  bedroom  at  the  Hotel  Con- 
tinental, a  stone's-throw  from  the  bay,  I  watched 
the  mail-boats,  tramps,  and  sailing-ships  come 
in  from  the  sea,  or  the  day  break.  A  constant 
charm  about  the  watching  was  the  impossibility 
of  foreseeing  what  would  happen.  One  morning 
I  saw  a  Russian  cruiser  squadron,  grey  and  silent, 
steam  up  to  its  anchorage,  and  frequently  after- 
wards, at  eight  o'clock,  I  heard  the  strains  of 
the  Russian  National  Anthem  as  the  ensigns 
were  hoisted.  The  familiar  music,  used  some- 
times in  England  as  a  hymn  tune,  mingled  with 
the  shore  noises  of  bullock-carts  and  timber- 
shifting  and  the  cries  of  men  and  women. 

While  the  Russian  squadron  was  in  Vigo  Bay 
a  seaman  was  killed  by  the  explosion  of  some 
acetylene  on  board  his  ship.  On  the  following 
afternoon  he  was  buried  with  all  the  solemn 
rites  of  his  Church.  At  the  head  of  the  pro- 
cession walked  a  sailor  carrying  a  basket,  from 
which  he  scattered  flowers  on  the  roadway; 
following  him  were  Russian  priests  in  their  white 
silk  vestments,  chaplains  from  the  squadron, 
and  brass  eikons  were  borne  aloft;  the  bands- 
men from  the  squadron  played  a  funeral  march, 
and  alternating  with  their  music  was  the  playing 
of  a  solemn  dirge  by  the  band  of  the  37th 
Regiment  of  the  Line  of  Spain;  there  was  the 
firing    party,    with    fixed     bayonets,     the     admirnl 


and  the  officers  from  the  ships  and  the  ships'*  com- 
panies, and  the  white  coffin  in  the  white  funeral  car, 
drawn  by  four  horses,  and  surmounted  by  a  figure 
of  the  Virgin.  It  was  all  very  touching  and  im- 
pressive— another  of  the  unexpected  sights  of 
this  corner  of  Spain  which  is  so  old  and  yet  so  very 


new. 


Vigo  is  the  port  from  which  most  of  the 
emigrants  who  leave  Galicia  sail,  and  at  which 
they  land  on  returning  to  their  native  country. 
Crowds  of  them  may  be  seen  frequently,  with 
their  baggage  and  household  belongings,  waiting 
on  the  quay  for  their  ship  to  enter  the  bay, 
or  going  off  in  barges  or  tenders  to  get  on  board. 
The  emigrants,  mostly  young  men,  are  bound 
for  South  America,  where  some  of  them  do 
very  well,  and  come  back  to  Galicia  with  capital 
enough  to  buy  land  and  settle  as  comfortable 
farmers. 

A  most  enjoyable  journey  can  be  made  from 
Vigo  to  Redondela,  eight  miles  away.  In  situa- 
tion the  town  is  considered  one  of  the  finest  in 
Spain,  and  it  would  be  hard  to  picture  any- 
thing more  beautiful  and  striking  than  its  aspect 
at  night,  as  seen  from  either  of  the  tall  railway 
viaducts.  The  larger  of  these  is  118  feet  high 
and  348  yards  long.  The  electric  lamps  give  the 
place  the  look  of  an,  enchanted  city.  You  can 
glance  down  the  shore  to  Vigo  itself,  outlined  by 
lamps,  high  on  the  hill-side,  whilst  Redondela  nestles 
in  a  dike  scores  of  feet  below  you  as  you  rumble 


E 


66  A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 

o.er    U.e    viaduct,    thanWM    ^0^^-^^^  te 
a  of  ^e  tram  .so  ^low^^  .K      ^^^^^^ 

;:^ly  pri^tsyid  ties  of  war  and  treasure  have 

LtUg  associate  -^\«:,VvS  rPuentearea., 

Also  within  easy  reach  of  Vigo  is 
a  small  town  which   is   ^e^rated  most^  ^f^^^    ^^ 

,ery    fine    old    Jf  f;;„.„7rentered    the   church 
this    place  in  the    evening  beginning, 

in  the  public  square  just  a.  semce_^^^^^^g  ^^^^^^ 

and    was    surprised    to    *>n<l^  ^fter 

crowded  with   worshippers,   7^*^  ~,ii  ^.rts 
the  manner  of  the  country,  they  carnea 

of  articles  with  them.  resourceful  daily 

Vigo   has  an  ^l^^f^^i:^^:rr:iresenteA  4 
T^rpss  and  Gahcia  has  its  mteresxs  wei      y 

,  observed  .  T' ^'^JC^^l  !opi«  of  4. 
„d  proineii«de   the    P"">""         ,    •■     ,  period 

^-/^^^^'ttu^Fdtratripos^d  of 
of  five  hours,  he  pniped  ^^^^sponded  to  our 
his   numbers.      The    tram  j  ^^^.. 

own  newspaper  specials    and  *e  method 
bution,  crude  «.ough  ^^^yJ^'^^^J    Th! 
of  a  systen.  ^l*'*/"  *""^,  ,  ^L  purchasers  open- 

irtr..'i:''«»-?^f^™.»d.«,.r 


VIGO  BAY  AND  HILLS 


67 


standing  to  read  the  news  or  absorbing  the 
contents  of  the  columns  as  they  walked  away* 
The  journey  from  Vigo  to  Orense  occupied  fi\e 
hours ;  and  there  was  the  same  time  spent  on  the 
return,  which  the  newsvendor  made.  He  started 
at  six,  and  arrived  at  Vigo  late  at  night.  That, 
I  was  told,  was  his  daily  task ;  yet  he  seemed 
perfectly  cheerful  and  contented. 

Vigo  fascinated  Borrow,  who  described  it  as  a 
small,  compact  place,  surrounded  with  low  walls, 
with  narrow,  steep,  and  winding  streets,  and  a  rather 
extensive  faubourg  stretching  along  the  shore  of  the 
bay.  Vigo,  he  added,  seemed  to  be  crowded,  and 
resounded  with  noise  and  merriment.  In  that 
respect  there  is  little  difference  between  the  town 
then  and  now ;  but  in  other  directions  there  have 
been  vast  changes.  It  can  no  longer  be  said  that 
Vigo  has  only  a  wretched  posada  to  offer  to 
travellers,  for  it  has  the  up-to-date  and  thoroughly 
equipped  Hotel  Continental,  facing  the  bay,  an 
establishment  from  whose  balconies  you  may  watch 
the  sun  rise  gorgeously  above  the  hills,  and  see  it 
set  in  a  blaze  of  colour  behind  the  Cies  Islands. 


Ill 


I 


SANTIAGO,   FROM   THE   ALAMEDA 


CHAP.  Ill 
SPAIN'S 
JERUSALEM 


>  \ 


I 


\ 


< 

Ji 

O 
a. 

o 
o 

Q 

o 
o 
< 

H 
< 

C/3 


CHAPTER  III 
SPAIN'S  JERUSALEM 

"  Now  about  that  time  Herod  the  King  put  forth 
his  hand  to  afflict  certain  of  the  church.  And  he 
killed  James  the  brother  of  John  with  the  sword.*" 

That  is  the  Gospel  story  of  the  death  of 
St.  James  the  Greater,  son  of  Zebedee,  in  whose 
memory  the  city  of  Santiago  was  founded,  and 
who  remains  the  patron  saint  of  Spain's  Jerusalem. 
Tradition  has  it  that  St.  James  journeyed  through 
Spain  and  preached  the  Gospel ;  while  another 
story  states  that  after  he  was  beheaded  by  Herod  his 
remains  were  taken  to  Galicia,  and  buried  at  the 
place  on  which  the  cathedral  of  Santiago  stands. 

The  saint's  sepulchre  was  not  known  till  the 
ninth  century,  when  it  was  revealed  to  a  pious 
bishop,  Theodomir  of  Iria,  by  a  star  of  wondrous 
brilliance.  At  that  time  Santiago  did  not  exist ; 
but  the  marvel  of  the  prelate's  discovery  spread 
throughout  Spain,  and  wrought  so  powerfully  upon 
the  reigning  monarch,  Alonso  II.,  that  he  com- 
manded the  immediate  building  of  a  chapel  on  the 

site  of  the  grave.     The  structure  was  begun,  but 

71 


^1 


i 


72  A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 

so  amazing  was  the  enthusiasm  with  which  the 
holy  disco' ry  was  hailed  that  the  origmal  des.gn 
o?  'a  mere  chapel  developed  into  a  scheme  for  a 
cathedral,  and  the  building  was  consecrated  at  the 
end  of  the  ninth  century. 

News   travelled    laggardly    in    those    far-d.stant 
days     yet    while    the    cathedral    was    being    built 
devout    believers    everywhere    became    acquainted 
;k  the  tidings  of  the  bishop^s  vision   and  pilgnms 
hastened  to  pay  tribute  to  the  holy  tomb.     From 
evt;  country  in  Europe  the  faithful  travelled  by 
horsi  or  on  foot,  many  of  them  spending  months 
on  the  journey.     Countless    thousands  worshipped 
"  Z  'shrine  and   returned  to  their  homes ;  un- 
numbered    thousands    perished    on    the    way    to 
sltLo    or  back;  while    multitudes  who   reached 
Sf  hoTy  city  never  left  it,  for  accommodation  was 
limited,    and    pestilence     swept    off    the    pilgrims 
uthles^ly.      At  times  the  crowds  were  so  enormou^ 
that  the  cathedral   had    to    remain  open  day  and 
night,  so  that  they  could  find  resting-places  on  is 
extensive  floors.     The  primitive  medical  and  sani- 
Sry  appliances  and  remedies  of  the  day  were  used 
to  ward  off  disease,  and  a  great  censer  was  kept 
burning  to  purify  the  vitiated  air  of  the  cathedral. 

Santiago  is  a  city  of  romance,  and  my  own  first 
sisht  of  it  was  memorable.  A  night-watchman 
clLked  and  leaning  on  his  gleaming  pike,  watched 
us  as  we  stepped  from  the  rickety  diligence  which 
had  jolted  us  from  the  railway  station  to  the  Hotel 
111    near    the    cathedral,  and   withm  a   stones- 


SPAIN'S  JERUSALEM 


73 


throw  of  the  university.  It  was  nearly  midnight, 
and  there  was  driving  rain,  which  ran  in  torrents 
down  the  crooked,  narrow,  flagged  thoroughfares 
which  serve  as  streets.  At  the  station  the  oil- 
lamps  dimly  shone  on  the  swimming  platforms  and 
gloomily  illuminated  the  big  bare  room  in  which 
a  statuesque  pair  of  Civil  Guards  leaned  on  their 
rifles  and  the  Customs  officers  and  passengers 
mixed  confusedly.  There  was  an  emigrant  re- 
turned from  South  America  with  a  ponderous 
trunk  to  open  and  examine.  When  it  was  passed 
the  huge  box  was  hoisted  on  to  the  head  of  a 
woman,  and  the  emigrant's  wife  having  been  loaded 
up  with  miscellaneous  articles,  the  triumphant  man 
sallied  forth,  bearing  no  heavier  burden  than  his 
umbrella. 

From  the  oil-lamped  station  we  drove  into  the 
mediaeval  streets,  lit  by  electricity,  and  as  the  bells 
began  to  chime  the  midnight  hour  the  sereno 
strolled  away  on  his  rounds  and  the  diligence 
disgorged  the  travellers,  peasants.  Civil  Guards,  and 
human  oddments,  who  had  clambered  into  and 
outside  it.  Bells  were  chiming  as  I  entered 
Santiago ;  they  rang,  it  seemed,  throughout  the 
night,  and  at  daybreak  clanged  to  summon  wor- 
shippers to  early  Mass.  The  population  numbers 
less  than  thirty  thousand,  yet  there  are  forty-six 
churches,  containing  nearly  three  hundred  altars, 
with  thirty-six  religious  and  kindred  institutions. 
If  priests  and  churches  make  a  city  good,  then 
Santiago  must  be  a  veritable  holy  of  holies. 


11 


74  A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 

There  are  many  wonderful  and  fascinating  build- 
ings in  this  Jerusalem  of  Spain,  but  the  glory  of 
them  all  is  that  vast  structure  whose  twin  towers 
rise  serenely  to  the  blue  sky,  and  whose  golden 
crosses  burn  and  glitter  in  the  sunshine.  Not  an 
hour  or  a  day,  but    many  hours  and    many  days 

must  be  spent  in  the  «^^i-''\'^^''^l}^^'''?Z 
beauties  can  be  adequately  realised.     Many  book 
and   innumerable  articles  have  been  written  about 
it,  but  the  greatest  book  of  all  is  that  marvel  ous 
work  entitled  "  Historia  de  la  Santa  A.  M.  Iglesia 
de  Compostela."     The  author  is  a  canon,  Antonio 
I/.pez  Ferreiro,  who  has  already  produced  thirteen 
volumes  of  his  monumental  undertaking,  and  is  to 
complete   his    task  with    a   fourteenth.     A    dozen 
vears  will  have   been    needed    for  the  pubhcation, 
which  will   surely  almost  rank    in    time    to    come 
with  Matteo^s  masterpiece,  the  Gate  of  Wory. 

You  enter  the  cathedral  and  look  around  in  the 
casual  manner  of  the  visitor   who    is    pressed    for 
time  and  has  a  long  programme  to  get  through 
before  he  starts  on  the  home  track  ;  and  not  even 
that  amazing  Gate  of  Glory  which  stands  unrivalled 
in    Christendom    may   call  for  more  than    passing 
notice.      You   may    have    spent    an    hour    m    the 
building,  and  leave  it  thinking  that  you  have  seen 
all,  and  you  wander  through  the  quaint,  narrow, 
twisted  streets,  gazing  at  the  little  shops,  which  are 
only  travesties   of  business   places;  at   the  women, 
who  are  working  cea^lessly,  especially  at  the  wells, 
drawing  water ;  at  the  men  and  boys  who  mmgle, 


y**-<fi.,.. 


^'-^^ 


.t^*0^ 


1.     ^ 

f>    ^ 

,f  *•  Ay  ^'•my*-  -ippp',  ■. 

« 

y 

\ml»^ 


>^-r: 


/  m- 


OXE  OF  SANTIAGO'S  TWIN  TOWEKS 


il 


SPAIN'S  JERUSALEM 


76 


II 


and    contrast  the    present    with    the    passing,    the 
student  and  the  peasant.     You  visit  that  particular 
cafe  which,  in  the  afternoon,  is  infested  by  students 
from  the  university  when  the  strain  of  mental  toil 
is  over,  and  may  count  a  hundred  of  them,  reckless, 
rowdy,  and  full  of  life  and  carelessness,  all  playing 
dominoes,  thudding  the  bone  pieces  on  the  marble- 
topped  tables  like  little  sledge-hammers    working, 
and    filling    the   tobacco-laden  air    with    deafening 
cries.      If  the  students  in  after-life  put   into  legal 
and  medical  work  anything  approaching  the  energy 
they  infuse  into  pastime,  then  fortunate  indeed  will 
be    their    patients    and    clients.      At   eventide  the 
students  become  romantic  and  conduct  their  little 
love  affairs,  and  occasionally  even  in  the  unemotional 
morning  a  young  man  may  be  seen  hovering  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  his  adored  one's  dwelling.      I  saw 
a  youth  at  daybreak,  outside  my  hotel,   feverishly 
pacing  the    flags.      He  wore  patent  leather  boots, 
very  tight  and  small,  and  a  large-checked  overcoat, 
a  flagrant  tie   and   a  ridiculous   little   bowler   hat. 
For  an  hour  he  watched  and  waited ;  then  from  an 
upper  window  a  female  voice  was  heard,  and  the 
youth's    face    assumed    a    fatuously    rapturous    ex- 
pression.     A   few  minutes  afterwards  the  owner  of 
the   voice  descended,  accompanied  by  her  parents, 
at  the  sight  of  whom  the  youth  scuttled  round  the 
corner,  for  the  better-class  young  ladies  in  Galicia 
are  closely  guarded  when  in  public. 

You  leave  the  cafe  and  drift,   and  instinctively 
you  have  made   your  way  again  to  the  cathedral 


i 


:i 


76  A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 

precincts,  gazing  at   the  windows  of  theJx>x-«'^^ 
shops  in   The    building  itself,  in  which  the  salver- 
smiths  ply  their  craftsmanship  and  produce,  amongst 
other    things,  va.st  numbers  of  tiny   si  ver  scallop- 
shells,  one  at  least  of  which,  obtainable  for  a  few 
coppers,  the  good  pilgrim  takes  away  from  Santiago. 
Unconsciously  you  re-enter  the  cathedral,  and  are 
wandering  about  the  vast  incense-smelhng  nave  and 
transepts.       Even  to  the  unguided  visitor  there  is 
much  to  see,  while  the  skilfully  piloted  stranger  may 
leisurely  examine  priceless  relics  and  treasures  and 
behold  many  marvellous  spectacles.     I  had  the  good 
fortune  to   be    shown  round  the    cathedral  during 
two  protracted  visits  by  Canon  Leopoldo  Eijo  Garay, 
and  to  have  the  precious  relics  shown  and  explained 
bv  Canon  Martin,  who  has  charge  of  the  treasury. 

There  is  the  beautiful  Biblioteca,  with  its  ceding 
so    cunningly  and   adroitly   wrought    in   stone   and 
painted  and  glided  that  it  is  difficult  to  beheve  that 
the    figures     and    ornamentation    are    not    plaster. 
The  present  King  of  Spain  himself,  when  visiting 
the    apartment,    declared    his    disbelief   that    the 
decoration  was  carved  from  solid  stone,  and  there  is 
pointed  out  a  small  patch  of  bare  stonework  from 
which   the  colouring   was   rubbed  to    prove  to   his 
Majesty  that  he  was  mistaken.     You  may  enter  a 
loft  where   many    old    and    modern    tapestr.es  are 
hung  to  keep  them  from  the  ravages  of  moths  and 
atmosphere ;  go  to  another  loft  in  which  are  stored 
the  grotesque  giants'  heads  used  in  the  procession 
of  St.    James,   carefully  covered  to  preserve  them 


«.  J 


SPAIN'S  JERUSALEM 


77 


from  dust,  and  inspect  the  large  room  in  which  the 
tapestries  and  trimmings  of  the  cathedral  are  kept 
in  order  and  repair.  In  another  part  of  the  cathedral, 
in  the  nave,  near  the  treasury,  is  a  cupboard  in 
which  clerical  vestments  are  kept  drawn  on  frames 
— vestments  that  look  like  priceless  cloth  of  gold. 
Also  to  be  seen  aro  the  ponderous  silver  maces 
which  are  carried  at  the  ceremonies  in  the  minster, 
and  the  giant  censer  in  its  sentry-box-like  case.  If 
you  are  favoured  you  may  lift  the  maces  and  try 
to  raise  the  top  of  the  censer — and  may  succeed 
in  moving  the  silver  mass  a  few  inches  from   its 

base. 

In  a  dimly  lighted  room  the  treasure  of  the 
cathedral  is  kept  and  Kings  of  Spain  are  buried. 
With  cunningly  devised  keys  the  doors  are  un- 
locked, and  the  canon  explains  the  meaning  of  the 
silver  and  gold  possessions,  the  very  extent  of 
which  is  bewildering.  Here  are  gifts  from 
sovereigns  and  potentates,  each  a  wonder  in  itself, 
yet  so  grouped  as  to  form  a  perfectly  harmonious 
whole.  Centuries  of  religious  devotion  are  re- 
presented in  this  one  comer  of  the  mighty  edifice, 
and  it  would  be  hard  to  estimate  more  than 
approximately  what  is  the  value  of  the  treasure, 
though     an     expert    might    guess    at    the    metals' 

intrinsic  worth. 

A  small  Maltese  cross  in  the  centre  of  the 
ornaments  on  the  wall  which  faces  the  door 
contains  a  piece  of  the  true  Cross,  while  above  it 
is  a  thorn  from    the  Saviour's  Crucifixion  Crown. 


I 


78 


A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 


I 


Golden  images  and  goblets,  carvings,  pictures, 
fading  gorgeous  cushions,  made  by  royal  and  noble 
hands,  with  many  other  gifts  in  various  form  to  the 
Holy  Mother  Church  from  her  sons  and  daughters, 
are  here,  and  the  eye  almost  fails  to  take  in  what 
the  mind  needs  time  to  comprehend.  More  than 
once  the  treasury  has  been  raided  by  invaders  ;  and 
within  the  last  two  or  three  years  sacrilegious 
hands  have  been  laid  on  one  or  two  of  the  priceless 
possessions  of  the  cathedral,  but  the  treasury  is 
now  specially  protected,  and  an  ingenious  clock  is 
used  to  record  the  movements  of  the  watchmen  who 
are  responsible  for  the  safety  of  the  relics  and 
riches.  It  is  said  that  the  whereabouts  of  some  of 
the  lost  treasures  are  known,  and  that  they  are  not 
far  from  America. 

From  the  treasury  one  may  go  to  the  high 
altar,  above  which  is  the  gorgeous  effigy  of 
St.  James,  the  object  of  the  last  attention  of  the 
Santiago  pilgrims.  The  whole  of  the  massive  altar 
decoration  is  solid  silver,  wrought  in  Salamanca, 
and  the  candlesticks  and  ornaments  around  are  of 
the  same  metal,  which  has  been  used  with  the 
lavishness  of  iron.  In  the  centre,  is  a  small  image 
of  the  Virgin,  with  a  halo  of  precious  stones,  and 
many  other  gems  flash  as  a  lighted  candle  at  the 
end  of  a  long  stick  is  held  out  so  that  they  may 

be  seen. 

Eleven  hundred  pounds'  weight  of  solid  pure 
gilyer — considerably  more  than  half  a  ton — was 
used  by  Salamanca  craftsmen  to  make  the  wondrous 


fliii 


I 


^1 


SPAIN'S  JERUSALEM 


79 


work  amidst  which  the  saint  sits  enshrined.  At 
this  high  altar  no  cleric  below  the  rank  of  bishop 
may  celebrate  Mass,  except  the  canons  of  the 
cathedral,  without  special  power  being  granted  by 
the  Pope.  Changes  are  being  made,  even  in 
romantic,  mediaeval  Santiago,  and  it  is  hoped  that 
something  like  five  hundred  thousand  pesetas  will 
be  raised  to  carry  out  alterations  in  the  cathedral. 

The  figure  of  St.  James  adorns  the  centre  of  the 
altar,  with  the  right  hand  pointing  to  that  sacred 
little  vault  below  in  which  reposes  the  great  silver 
casket  containing  the  ashes  of  the  Apostle ;  and 
behind  him  is  an  unassuming  box  in  which  the 
bones  were  hidden  when  Drake  swooped  down  on 
Santiago  from  the  coast.  The  original  figure  was 
made  in  the  thirteenth  century,  and  there  it  is 
still,  but  with  a  massive  silver  garment  clothing  it, 
a  garment  wrought  in  modern  times  by  cunning 
craftsmen  of  Madrid.  Ford  describes  the  original 
figure  as  being  of  stone,  but  my  own  impression  on 
feeling  it,  which  I  did  after  the  ponderous  silver  back 
had  been  pulled  away  on  its  castors,  was  that  the 

material  is  wood. 

At  the  back  of  the  Apostle  is  a  little  platform, 
which  is  approached  by  a  few  steps  on  each  side. 
Up  these  staircases  the  pilgrims  walk,  and,  placing 
their  hands  on  the  shoulders  of  the  silver  cape,  kiss 
the  back  of  it — the  gem-studded  esdaviita — and 
return  to  the  floor  of  the  cathedral.  Men  and 
women  of  all  ranks  and  countries  have  visited  that 
tiny  platform  and  leaned  forward  for  a  salutation, 


m 


jliii 


80  A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 

and  doubtless  multitudes  will  journey  thither  stiU. 
It  may  be  that  a  band  of  the  well-to-do  classes  will 
visit  the  figure  in  the  company,  as  I  saw  them,  of 
peasants  who  come  into  Santiago  and   make  their 
osculation  and  depart.      These  peasants,  being  able 
to   visit   the   sanctuary   often,   do   not    trouble    to 
acquire    and    take    away    that    coveted    document 
which  it  is  the  wish  of  all  true  pilgrims  to  possess 
— the   compostella.     This    is    a    parchmenty   form, 
containing    an    ornamental    border,    headed    by    a 
figure    of  a   pilgrim   and    flanked    by    columns    of 
scallop-shells.      The  border  e:?closes  a  printed  Latin 
declaration   to   the   effect   that  the  pilgrim    whose 
name  is  written  in  has  duly  made  the  pilgrimage 
and    has    received    the     certificate,     after     making 
confession  and   receiving    communion.      The    certi- 
ficate is  signed  by  a  canon,  with  the  date  of  the 
month   and   the    year    of   the    pilgrimage,    and    is 
stamped  with  a  blue  seal.      The  acquisition  of  it 
crowns  the  object  of  the  journey  to  the  holy  city  of 
Galicia,    and  the  compostella    remains    as    evidence 
that  he  has  performed  a  ceremony  which  in  other 
days  was  almost  as  essential  as  legal  documents  in 
proving  a  right  to  property. 

Two  little  metal  doors  behind  the  altar  lead  up 
to  the  platform;  another,  hidden  in  the  gloom 
near  them,  gives  access  to  that  dark  chamber  in 
which  the  faithful  pray  and  worship  at  St.  James's 
holy  shrine,  and  where  the  cardinal  conducts  his 
own  devotions.  Electricity  has  been  installed  in 
the     vault,    but    there    are    days — amongst     them 


H 


\\ 


II 


;v 


RU 


A    DEL    VILLAR,    SANTIAGO. 


SPADES  JERUSALEM 


81 


ill 


Sundays — ^when  it  is  not  used,  and  other  days  when 
the  current  fails  to  work,  and  at  these  times 
candles  are  employed  to  light  the  cavem-like 
apartment,  into  which  the  sunshine  never  penetrates. 
A  few  steps  downwards,  a  few  more  along  the  narrow 
stone  passage,  a  turn  to  the  right,  and  two  or  there 
more  steps — then  you  are  in  the  cold  and  tiny 
chamber  which  contains  the  famous  silver  coffin. 

The  Apostle's  sepulchre  is  about  three  feet  long 
and  two  feet  wide  and  the  same  in  depth,  though 
the  top  slopes  somewhat  after  the  manner  of  a  roof. 
It  is  purely  modern  work,  and  was  designed  and 
made  in  the  cathedral  by  an  expert  whose  son  is 
still  associated  with  the  building.  There  are  figures 
round  the  sides  of  the  urn,  beautifully  wrought 
images  something  like  a  foot  in  height,  copied  from 
the  finest  details  in  the  Gate  of  Glory. 

The  dim  light  of  the  candles  reveals  other  relics 
in  this  sacred  spot — amongst  them  Roman  mosaics 
and  various  ancient  fragments  in  glass  cases.  The 
original  walls  of  the  vault,  dating  from  the  first 
century,  are  visible.  In  some  places  the  bricks  and 
stones  have  been  faced  with  granite,  but  those  that 
are  uncovered  show  little  traces  of  the  effects  of  the 
two  thousand  years  which  have  passed  since  they 
were  built  upon  each  other. 

Just  as  you  instinctively  return  to  the  cathedral, 
so,  when  you  are  in  it,  you  wander  to  the  Gate  of 
Glory  and  begin  to  realise  why  Santiagoans  claim 
that  this  masterpiece  is  peerless  of  its  kind.  The 
sculptor  who  created  it  spent  twenty  years  in  carry- 


82  A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 

ing  out  his  purpose.     During  those  two  decades— 
1168-1188— Maestro    Matteo    wrought    m   stone 
that  wondrous  work  of  which   a   replica   exists  in 
South     Kensington     Museum.      Unfortunately    the 
Gate  of  Glory  at  Santiago  is  so  placed  that  its  real 
significance    and    majesty   are    not    apparent   at   a 
glance,  because  the   portico  is  within  the  building 
itself,    standing    back   a   little    distance    from    the 
main  entrance,  which  is  opened  only  for  important 
ceremonials.     Nor  can  the  replica  be  seen  to  full 
advantage   in   its    present    position.      Other    archi- 
tectural  works  are  crowded  up  to  it,  and  there  is  no 
point  from  which  the  complete  copy  can  be  viewed. 
Admirable    though  the  replica  is,  yet  it  falls  far 
short  of  the  original  in  beauty,  because  it  is  painted 
a  dirty  drab,  while  the  Gate  itself  still  bears  much 
of    the    original    rich    colour     with    which    it    was 
decorated.      The  replica  was  acquired  in  1866  at  a 
cost  of  X^2300,  and  now  that  there  is  so  much  room  in 
the  magnificent  new  Museum  no  time  should  be  lost 
in   removing   the    work.     The   reproduction  would 
form  a  noble  decoration  for  one  of  the  hght  and 
splendid    galleries     of    the     extension      at     South 

Kensington.  . 

The  Gate  of  Glory  consists  of  three  arches,  the 
centre  one  of  which  gives  the  title  to  the  whole- 
La  Gloria.  Twice  life-size,  the  Redeemer  is  seated 
in  the  centre  of  the  arch,  with  St.  James  below  Him, 
seated  also,  and  around  Him  are  the  Evangelists 
and  elders  and  angels,  the  whole  being  symbolic  of 
the    Last    Judgment    and    the    \nctory    of   virtue 


I 


SPAIN^S  JERUSALEM 


83 


over  vice.  It  is  not  so  much  the  subject  as  the  work 
itself  which  will  awe  and  fascinate  the  visitor :  there 
is  so  much  prodigality  of  labour,  such  lavishness 
of  design,  such  an  amazing  whole  contained  in  so 
limited  a  space.  The  wondrous  and  magnificent 
group  over  the  central  arch  would  in  itself  make 
Santiago's  Gate  of  Glory  unrivalled  amongst  kindred 
masterpieces. 

Seven  hundred  years  have  passed  since  Matteo 
finished  his  immortal  work,  yet  in  many  ways  that 
work  appears  as  perfect  now  as  it  was  when  he  put 
down  his  tools  for  the  last  time  and  gazed  upon 
that  figure  of  himself  which  kneels  and  looks 
towards  the  dim  interior  of  the  minster,  as  if  in 
thankfulness  for  the  completion  of  his  task. 

In  the  exquisite  central  shaft  of  the  Gate  there 
are  some  depressions  into  which  the  extended  thumb 
and  fingers  of  one's  right  hand  will  fit.  I  was  told 
that  these  indentations  had  been  worn  into  the  stone 
through  contact  with  the  hands  of  countless  pilgrims 
who  believed  that  as  a  result  they  would  be  physi- 
cally strong  for  life ;  and  that  another  performance 
which  has  been  extensively  practised  is  to  place 
one's  head  on  that  of  Matteo's  figure ;  the  faithful 
being  satisfied  that  thenceforward  they  will  be 
spared  numerous  mental  afflictions.  As  there  may 
be  hidden  virtues  in  the  superstitions  I  went 
through  both  performances. 

The  visitor  to  Santiago  who  is  fortunate  may  see 
a  spectacle  which  is  unrivalled  in  the  service  of  the 
Catholic  Church,  and   that  is  the  swinging  of  the 


I 


u; 


82  A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 

ing  out  his  purpose.     During  those  two  decades — 
1168-1188 — Maestro    Matteo    wrought    in   stone 
that  wondrous  work  of  which   a   replica   exists  in 
South     Kensington     Museum.      Unfortunately     the 
Gate  of  Glory  at  Santiago  is  so  placed  that  its  real 
significance    and    majesty   are    not    apparent   at   a 
glance,  because  the   portico   is  within  the  building 
itself,    standing    back   a   little    distance    from    the 
main  entrance,  which  is  opened  only  for  important 
ceremonials.     Nor  can  the  replica  be  seen  to  full 
advantage   in   its    present    position.      Other    archi- 
tectural works  are  crowded  up  to  it,  and  there  is  no 
point  from  which  the  complete  copy  can  be  viewed. 
Admirable    though  the  replica  is,  yet  it  falls  far 
short  of  the  original  in  beauty,  because  it  is  painted 
a  dirty  drab,  while  the  Gate  itself  still  bears  much 
of    the    original    rich    colour     with    which    it    was 
decorated.      The  replica  was  acquired  in  1866  at  a 
cost  of  i:^2300,  and  now  that  there  is  so  much  room  in 
the  magnificent  new  Museum  no  time  should  be  lost 
in   removing   the    work.     The   reproduction  would 
form  a  noble  decoration  for  one  of  the  light  and 
splendid    galleries     of    the     extension      at     South 

Kensington. 

The  Gate  of  Glory  consists  of  three  arches,  the 
centre  one  of  which  gives  the  title  to  the  whole — 
La  Gloria.  Twice  life-size,  the  Redeemer  is  seated 
in  the  centre  of  the  arch,  with  St.  James  below  Him, 
seated  also,  and  around  Him  are  the  Evangelists 
and  elders  and  angels,  the  whole  being  symbolic  of 
the    Last    Judgment   and    the    v-ictory    of   virtue 


SPAIN^S  JERUSALEM 


83 


over  vice.  It  is  not  so  much  the  subject  as  the  work 
itself  which  will  awe  and  fascinate  the  visitor :  there 
is  so  much  prodigality  of  labour,  such  lavishness 
of  design,  such  an  amazing  whole  contained  in  so 
limited  a  space.  The  wondrous  and  magnificent 
group  over  the  central  arch  would  in  itself  make 
Santiago's  Gate  of  Glory  unrivalled  amongst  kindred 
masterpieces. 

Seven  hundred  years  have  passed  since  Matteo 
finished  his  immortal  work,  yet  in  many  ways  that 
work  appears  as  perfect  now  as  it  was  when  he  put 
down  his  tools  for  the  last  time  and  gazed  upon 
that  figure  of  himself  which  kneels  and  looks 
towards  the  dim  interior  of  the  minster,  as  if  in 
thankfulness  for  the  completion  of  his  task. 

In  the  exquisite  central  shaft  of  the  Gate  there 
are  some  depressions  into  which  the  extended  thumb 
and  fingers  of  one's  right  hand  will  fit.  I  was  told 
that  these  indentations  had  been  worn  into  the  stone 
through  contact  with  the  hands  of  countless  pilgrims 
who  believed  that  as  a  result  they  would  be  physi- 
cally strong  for  life ;  and  that  another  performance 
which  has  been  extensively  practised  is  to  place 
one's  head  on  that  of  Matteo's  figure ;  the  faithful 
being  satisfied  that  thenceforward  they  will  be 
spared  numerous  mental  afflictions.  As  there  may 
be  hidden  virtues  in  the  superstitions  I  went 
through  both  performances. 

The  visitor  to  Santiago  who  is  fortunate  may  see 
a  spectacle  which  is  unrivalled  in  the  service  of  the 
Catholic   Church,   and   that  is  the  swinging  of  the 


41 


I 


1 1 


Tn' 


'a 


84  A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 

largest  silver  censer  in  the  world.  At  ten  in  the 
morning  of  an  October  Friday  I  entered  the 
cathedral  when  High  Mass  was  being  celebrated. 
There  was  much  that  was  imposing  in  the  procession 
of  the  gorgeously  vestmented  clergy,  from  the  two 
bishops  downward  ;  near  me,  fastened  to  a  sculptured 
pillar,  was  the  staff  which  was  found  with  the  body 
of  St.  James,  and  there  were  priceless  articles  in 
precious  metals  within  view  ;  but  I  had  attention 
only  for  the  massive  urn,  which  is  six  feet  high. 

The  censer  had  been  brought  from  its  house  in  the 
Biblioteca  and  placed  in  position  in  the  middle  of 
the  aisle,  under  the  gorgeously  decorated  dome.  It 
was  resting  on  the  floor,  and  from  the  ring  in  the 
top  a  stout  rope  ran  upward  to  a  combination  of 
pulleys  supported  on  graceful  iron  standards  secured 
to  four  pillars.  The  free  end  of  the  rope  was  hung 
on  a  neighbouring  bracket.  When  the  time  came 
to  bum  incense  the  rope  was  released  and  the  fire 
was  lit.  Immediately  the  dense,  sickly  sweet  fumes 
ascended  and  a  master  workman  gave  the  signal  for 
hoisting.  The  man  at  the  rope  pulled  downward, 
and  the  censer  swung  at  a  height  of  about  six  feet, 
clear  of  the  adjacent  altar-rails;  then  the  leader 
seized  the  silver  mass  and  gave  it  a  strong  push,  so 
that  it  began  to  swing  to  and  fro  with  a  long,  steady 
sweep,  the  fumes  rising  and  spreading  in  the  dim 

interior. 

As  the  censer  was  swung  it  was  hoisted  higher ; 
then,  each  man  seizing  one  of  the  cluster  of  smaller 
ropes  fastened  to  the  main  rope,  a  regular  pulling 


SPAIN'S  JERUSALEM 


85 


began,  and  the  pulleys,  acting  like  the  ropes  of  a 
church  bell,  caused  the  censer  to  make  an  immense 
sweep  to  and  fro.  It  was  fascinating  to  watch  the 
growing  of  the  sweep,  until  the  arc  described  must 
have  been  equal  to  a  hundred  feet.  The  censer 
swung  majestically  until  it  seemed  to  strike  the 
vaulted  roof;  then  the  pulling  ceased  and  the  great 
vessel  was  lowered.  With  unexpected  quickness  its 
pace  decreased,  and  as  the  heavy  mass  swung  across 
the  railed  space  the  master  workman  seized  it  again 
and  with  unerring  judgment  piloted  it  to  the  floor, 
a  cloud  of  incense  rising  from  the  top  and  bright 
flames  showing  in  the  interior  of  the  vessel.  Two 
men,  clothed  like  workmen,  went  to  the  censer,  and, 
putting  a  pole  through  the  ring,  carried  it  away 
on  their  shoulders,  the  weight  of  metal  being  just 
so  much  as  they  could  beai'  with  ease. 

As  I  watched  the  long  sweep  of  the  enormous 
urn  I  wondered  what  would  happen  if  it  broke 
adrift  and  fell  into  the  crowd  of  worshippers. 
Legend  says  that  at  one  time  the  censer  actually 
did  leave  its  support  and  crash  through  the  wall  of 
the  cathedral,  and  that  on  the  spot  where  it  fell 
a  well  sprang  up,  to  the  amazed  joy  and  great 
comfort  of  the  faithful,  who  were  thirsting  for  water. 

Being  a  city  of  churches,  Santiago  is  the  home  of 
religious  celebrations — or  festivals,  as  they  may  be 
called,  for  the  people  of  the  ancient  city  take  life 
joyfully,  and  to  them  the  church  fills  the  place  of 
the  bull-ring  and  the  theatre,  neither  of  which 
exists  in  Santiago  as  a  permanent  institution. 


\\ 


86 


A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 


SPAIN'S  JERUSALEM 


87 


One  afternoon  I  walked  into  the  Church  of  San 
Martin,  which  has  some  gorgeous  altars,  and  learned 
that  there  was  to  be  the  yearly  observance  of 
the  festival  of  Rosaria.  There  is  no  distinction 
of  worshippers  in  Catholic  churches,  and  rich  and 
poor  alike  were  entering,  wearing  little  medals  and 
bearing  yard-long  candles.  They  crossed  them- 
selves devoutly  and  knelt  and  prayed  on  the  bare, 
bleak  floor  of  the  building,  which  is  reached  by 
descending  a  flight  of  stairs.  Children,  ragged  and 
dirty,  without  either  medal  or  candle,  were  clamber- 
ing over  forms,  other  children,  prim  and  proper, 
brightly  clad  and  clasping  candles,  were  seated  with 
their  mothers,  and  senoritas,  some  of  them  hand- 
some, knelt  and  crossed  themselves  and  prayed — 
but  glancing  slantingly  as  they  did  so  to  reckon  up 
their  neighbours  and  the  strangers.  Officers  and 
privates  of  a  line  battalion  entered,  and  a  great 
number  of  men,  all  bearing  candles,  and  some 
hurrying  as  if  they  had  just  left  business  and 
were  anxious  to  share  in  the  ceremony.  At 
five  o'clock  the  procession  started,  headed  by 
white-clad  children  bearing  tiny  banners,  and 
followed  by  the  effigy  of  Our  I^dy  of  the  Rosary, 
shoulder-high,  and  the  priests  in  their  full  vest- 
ments. The  women,  bearing  their  candles,  now 
lighted,  ranged  up  the  sides  of  the  open-air  steps 
as  the  procession  advanced,  some  of  them,  the 
younger,  who  were  dressed  in  modern  style,  giggling 
confusedly,  but  others,  the  poorer  and  more 
primitive,  very  serious  in  their  work.     There  was 


fine  full,  resonant  singing  of  the  Ave  Maria  by 
the  priests  and  two  laymen,  accompanied  by  a 
soldier  and  a  civilian  with  bassoons ;  then,  the 
image  having  left  the  church,  the  band  of  the 
12th  Infantry,  the  famous  Saragossa  Regiment, 
fell  in  and  played  as  the  procession  at  the  slow 
march  went  along  the  ancient  streets  to  the  Church 
of  San  Domingo,  where  the  last  part  of  the  service 
was  conducted — an  old  church  made  garish  inside 
with  arc-lamps.  It  was  a  festival  in  which  noise 
shared  largely,  for  rockets  were  exploding  at 
intervals,  and  the  bells  of  every  church  we  passed 
clanged  madly,  pulled  by  boys  who,  against  the  sky, 
looked  like  imps.  A  crowd  followed  the  procession 
— a  strange  mixture  of  well-to-do  and  poor,  of 
smartly  dressed  and  shabbily  clothed.  Near  me 
was  a  handsome  Spaniard  in  a  charming  frock  and 
Paris  hat,  side  by  side  with  a  shawled  peasant,  and 
a  Spanish  captain  chatted  gaily  with  a  friend  and 
smoked  a  cigarette. 

The  festival  of  Our  Lady  of  the  Rosary  may  be 
seen  in  any  Catholic  country,  but  Santiago  has  its 
own  particular  celebrations  in  connection  with  the 
cathedral,  and  of  these  by  far  the  most  famous  is 
the  ceremony  which  takes  place  on  St.  James's 
Eve,  July  24.  The  people  give  themselves  up  to 
enjoyment  and  meniment,  and  begin  early  on  the 
morning  of  the  24th.  At  eight  o'clock  bands 
parade  the  principal  streets,  and  their  music  is 
succeeded  by  clanging  bells  and  crashing  rockets. 
Amid  the  growing  excitement  and  commotion  there 


♦ 


att. 


ij|»p»jj  ¥■ 


88 


A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 


SPAIN'S  JERUSALEM 


89 


starts  that  historical  procession  of  giants  which 
crudely  represents  the  arrival  of  the  pilgrims  of  old 
from  all  parts  of  the  world. 

These  giants  are  created  largely  out  of  the 
enormous  artificial  heads  which  I  have  mentioned. 
The  heads  are  carried  elevated,  so  that,  with  the 
garments  that  the  bearers  employ,  colossal  men 
seem  to  walk  along  the  streets.  The  procession 
starts  at  noon,  and  for  an  hour  the  clock-tower 
bell  peals  constantly  and  it  is  difficult  to  move 
along  the  densely  crowded  thoroughfares. 

The  giants  are  not  the  only  curious  feature  of 
the  celebration.  There  are  also  included  in  it  a 
number  of  dwarfs — cabezitdos,  signifying  big-heads, 
who  strive,  with  great  success,  to  entertain  the 
juveniles  of  Santiago  by  their  antics  and  quaint 
dances.  There  is  constant  mirth  and  music;  and 
later  in  the  afternoon,  in  the  Plaza  del  Hospital, 
greasy  poles  are  climbed,  and  country  dances  take 
place,  accompanied  by  the  Galician  bagpipes,  which 
give  national  and  local  airs — as  well  as  they  can  be 
played  on  such  unmusical  instruments. 

From  joy  to  joy  and  noise  to  noise  the 
Santiagoan  arrives  at  darkness,  and  .at  nine  o'clock 
the  rockets,  bursting  from  a  dozen  mortars,  open  a 
brilliant  display  of  fireworks  in  front  of  the  holy 
basilica,  accompanied  by  coloured  illuminations  of 
the  principal  buildings  and  the  crash  of  bells,  the 
shouts  and  laughter  of  the  crowds  and  the  music  of 
the  bands.  St.  James's  Eve  ends  in  a  chorus  of 
mirth    and   music,  and   the    holiday-makers    have 


scarcely    time   to  recover   from  the   excitement  of 
the  day  before  they  are  called  upon  to  renew  it. 

Twenty-one  mortars  fired  in  the  Plaza  del 
Hospital  at  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning  begin  the 
festivities  of  St.  James's  Day.  Simultaneously  with 
the  crashing  of  the  rockets  all  the  bands  in  the 
city  burst  into  music.  Two  hours  later  the  mayor, 
the  civil  governor,  the  members  of  the  corporation, 
and  the  other  principal  local  officials  go  to  the 
holy  basilica,  where  they  join  the  procession  round 
the  cathedral  and  hear  Mass  between  the  choir  and 
the  high  altar,  where  the  civil  governor  occupies  a 
seat  as  the  king's  representative. 

By  this  time  the  cathedral,  vast  though  it  is, 
can  scarcely  hold  the  crowds  who  throng  the  nave 
and  transepts.  The  cardinal  celebrates  the  Mass, 
at  which  the  giant  censer  is  used ;  and  a  solemn 
feature  of  the  performance  is  the  ascent  of  the  steps 
of  the  high  altar  by  the  civil  governor,  who, 
kneeling,  offers  in  the  name  of  the  king  a  thousand 
escudos  of  gold,  equal  to  d^400,  an  annual  gift  from 
the  monarch,  at  the  same  time  pronouncing  a 
fervent  prayer,  which  his  Eminence  answers.  When 
the  present  King  of  Spain  visited  Santiago  he 
personally  discharged  this  interesting  task.  Mass 
being  finished,  the  cardinal  pronomices  the  Papal 
blessing,  and  to  all  who  have  officially  shared  in  the 
ceremony  beautiful  bouquets  of  flowers  are  given. 
Then  follows  an  old  and  remarkable  act  in  the  per- 
formance at  the  high  altar,  before  the  holy  Apostle, 
of  a  dance  by  the  giants.      During  the  afternoon 


#  J 


i! 


fs 


—■ r^sras 


90 


A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 


SPAIN^S  JERUSALEM 


91 


both  giants  and  dwarfs — gigantones  y  cubezttdos — 
show  themselves  in  the  streets  and  public  squares, 
accompanied  by  bands  and  crowds  of  Santiago's 
populace  and  country  people. 

In  the  evening,  when  the  celebrations  at  the 
cathedral  are  ended,  a  procession  of  virgins  leaves 
the  Church  of  Santa  Clara  and  enters  the  basilica 
by  the  northern  door,  which  is  known  as  the 
Gate  of  Jet,  and  there  the  cardinal,  accompanied 
by  all  the  dignitaries  of  the  church,  receives 
them. 

For  these  two  days  in  July  each  year  Santiago 
surrenders  itself  to  revelry  «Cnd  enjoyment;  then 
the  city  resumes  its  peaceful,  yet  always  bright 
and  interesting,  life.  The  people  have  had  their 
giants  and  dwarfs,  bands  of  music  and  mortars, 
celebrations  in  the  cathedral  and  their  bells,  and 
have  shown  that  in  spite  of  all  their  woes  and 
burdens  they  still  know  how  to  live. 

Not  the  least  pronounced  feature  of  the  festival 
has  been  the  bells  of  Santiago.  Some  of  them  seem 
to  be  always  ringing.  There  are  the  calls  to  early 
Mass  at  six  in  the  morning,  and  the  summonses  to 
other  forms  of  worship  throughout*  the  day ;  and 
whenever  a  procession  passes  a  church  the  bells  clang 
out  and  mingle  with  the  bursting  of  the  rockets. 
Some  of  the  bells  are  mellow  and  melodious,  but 
others  are  like  the  ringing  of  a  raucous  hotel  gong. 
There  is  no  music  or  method  in  them  ;  a  small  boy 
is  stationed  by  the  bells — you  can  see  him  at  his 
noisy    work — and   he   hammers    at    his    task,    per- 


forming it   with  extra  frenzy   when  service-time  is 
reached. 

In  the  cathedral  the  bell-ringer  and  his  family 
live  near  the  belfry,  to  be  ready  to  answer  any 
special  call,  to  ring  a  peal  or  sound  an  alarm,  for 
the  fire-bell  is  at  the  mother  church  ;  and  there  are 
other  special  bells,  such  as  that  which  is  rung  only 
when  a  canon  of  the  cathedral  dies.  One  of  the 
largest  of  the  bells  of  Santiago  was  struck  not  long 
ago  by  lightning  and  was  cracked.  The  crevice 
is  still  visible,  though  attempts  have  been  made 
to  fill  it  up  with  other  metal.  The  bell  dropped 
from  its  support  to  the  stonework  inside  the  balus- 
trade, and  there  remains,  out  of  action. 

Pilgrims  of  old  reached  Santiago  by  the  way  of 
blood  and  tears,  for  roads  were  bad  and  shoes  and 
sandals  vanished  on  the  weary  journeys.  Nowadays 
pilgrims  travel  speedily  and  comfortably,  and 
organised  bands  set  out  for  Spain's  Jerusalem  to  see 
its  wonders  and  enjoy  its  charms.  In  1909,  for 
the  first  time  in  nearly  four  centuries,  an  English 
band  of  pilgrims,  headed  by  the  Archbishop  of 
Westminster,  visited  Galicia,  by  the  Booth  Line, 
under  the  guidance  of  the  Catholic  Association, 
and  their  banner  is  suspended  in  the  cloisters  of 
the  holy  city's  minster,  while  on  many  of  their 
walls  at  home  are  hung  the  coveted  certificates  of 
pilgrimage. 

Modem  pilgrims  may  visit  and  revisit  the  cathe- 
dral ;  and  they  may  also  wander  at  will  about  the 
city,  visiting  the  old  Inquisition,  near  the  Alameda, 


i! 


p 


r.i 


■N>M^  '^-f'  ri«iS{-aiiri"if7 


92 


A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 


now  used  for  business  purposes,  and  soon,  perhaps, 
to  be   converted  into  an  hotel,  the  Archaeological 
Museum,  formerly  the  old  Convent  of  San  Clemente, 
the  vast  Seminary,  the  Town  Hall,  the  Royal  Hos- 
pital, built  four  centuries  ago  for  the  accommodation 
of  pilgrims,  the  cattle  market,  and  the  city's  lesser 
churches,  the  most  astonishing  of  which  is  the  Cole- 
gieta  de  Sar,  famous  for  its  leaning   columns  and 
twisted   look,      llie   palace  adjoins    the   cathedral. 
It    is   an  unassuming    building,   and    the  audience 
chamber,  where  I  had  the  privilege  of  an  interview 
with  Cardinal  Herrera  y  de  la  Iglesia,  makes    no 
pretence    to    splendour.     The    Cardinal    is    deeply 
interested   in   the  visits   to    Santiago  of  foreigners, 
and  spoke  with  enthusiasm  of  the  excellent  effect  of 
journeys  to  the  city.      Proud  of  its  wonderful  past, 
he  is  alive  to  the  necessity  of  modern  improvements 
in  some  respects,  and  doubtless  some  of  these  will 
be  carried  out  without    in  any    way  affecting  the 
city's  fascination.      The  Museum  contains  many  of 
the   ancient  remains    of    Galicia,   and    in    the    In- 
quisition,   seldom    visited    or  mentioned,  there  are 
relics   of   the    torture    days ;    the  Seminary    bears 
signs  of  the  visit  of  the  French  under  Soult  in  1809, 
%hen   they  raided  the  cathedral  treasures  and  bore 
off   something  like  half  a  ton  of  precious  metal- 
ware  ;  and  in  the  Hospital  you  may  see  the  well- 
kept  wards,  the  beautiful  and  extensive  cloisters,  and 
the  little  ancient  chapel.      Strange  though  it  may 
seem  to    English  people,    yet    you  may  stroll  un- 
challenged   tiarough    the  wards,  and  see  how    well 


mti9r 


SPAIN'S  JERUSALEM 


93 


cared  for  are  Galicia's  sick  and  ailing.  The  Royal 
Hospital  at  Santiago  claims  to  be  amongst  the 
very  first  of  Spain's  healing  institutions.  Even 
in  November,  when  I  visited  it,  there  was  warm 
sunshine  in  which  the  patients  could  sit  or  lie — 
different  indeed  from  the  dreary  deluges  of  rain  with 
which,  as  my  home  letters  told  me,  England,  and 
particularly  London,  was  afflicted.  I  know  that 
when,  near  Mondariz,  I  was  lying  on  the  bank  of  a 
clear  stream  on  the  hot  sand,  in  a  flood  of  sunshine, 
idly  throwing  pebbles  in  the  rushing  water,  and 
watching  the  peasant  women  crossing  and  re- 
crossing  an  old  bridge  near  me,  my  countrymen  in 
England,  whose  southern  shore  was  only  two  days' 
sail  away,  were  shivering  in  steely  blasts  and 
maligning  the  land  of  their  nativity.  I  know,  too, 
that  in  such  unromantic  and  inclement  weather  at 
home,  I  was  seated  on  a  green  hillock  to  the  south 
of  Spain's  Jerusalem,  smoking  and  watching  the  hot 
sun  glint  on  Santiago's  gilded  crosses.  In  such  a 
place  you  may  rest  and  muse  and  gaze  towards 
the  city,  which  is  one  of  the  most  alluring  in  all 
Christendom. 

Fascinating  though  Santiago  is  by  day,  yet  its 
charms  are  not  so  subtle  then  as  at  night,  when  the 
day's  work  is  done  and  the  people  are  walking  in 
the  open  air  they  love  so  well.  There  is  no 
wheeled  traffic  in  the  streets — only  an  occasional 
bullock-cart  or  diligence  is  encountered — and  the 
long,  broad  flags,  with  their  wide  crevices,  worn 
smooth    by  generations    of   men    and  women    and 


94 


A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 


I 


t 


children,  re-echo  the  footsteps  of  the  pedestrians. 
The  arc-lamps  accentuate  the  quaintness  of  the 
thoroughfares,  and  electric  bulbs  show  up  the 
strange  interiors  of  the  little  shops. 

The  streets  are  thronged,  and  there  is  a  constant 
chorus  of  talk  and  laughter.  If  the  Santiagoans 
have  cares,  surely  they  have  left  them  in  their 
homes,  for  here  you  seem  to  come  across  nothing 
that  is  gloomy  or  depressing.  The  modern  hat 
and  dress  are  mingled  with  the  mantilla  and  the 
coloured  shawl,  and  the  high-heeled  boot  adds  to 
that  chorus  of  sound  the  chief  feature  of  which  is 
the  clank  of  the  wooden  shoe,  with  the  softer 
accompaniment  which  comes  from  the  thud  of  bare 

feet. 

Here  and  there  inside  the  buildings  is  a  simple 
oil-lamp,  and  at  times  you  see  a  small  acetylene 
lamp  on  a  counter,  showing  up,  perhaps,  some  of 
the  enormous  round  maize  loaves  which  form  the 
basis  of  the  poorer  people's  food.  If  you  would 
escape  from  the  lighted  streets  and  be  alone,  you 
may  slip  down  a  narrow  alley  and  find  yourself  in 
an  old-world  thoroughfare,  whose  only  light  comes 
from  some  open  doorway,  or  the  stars  in  the  ragged 
line  of  gables  which  open  to  the  sky.  If  it  is  near 
the  time  of  full  moon  you  may  wander  on — and 
you  will  abruptly  reach  the  cathedral,  and  see 
above  you  the  square  twin  towers  and  the  gilded 
spires.  Again  you  are  back  at  that  wonderful 
creation  which  for  centuries  has  been  the  pride  and 
glory  of  Galicia. 


SPAIN'S  JERUSALEM 


95 


The  scallop-shell  of  Santiago  has  been  mentioned. 
It  is  seen  wherever  you  may  go — on  the  walls 
of  the  cathedral,  over  the  doors  of  numberless 
little  houses,  and  in  multitudes,  in  tiny  silver 
representations,  in  the  shops  of  jewellers.  The 
origin  of  the  shell  as  an  emblem  is  legendary.  One 
story  goes  that  when  the  Apostle  had  been  slain  by 
Herod  his  body  was  taken  from  Joppa  back  to 
Galicia,  to  which  it  was  borne  by  sea  in  a  colossal 
shell.  The  version  adds  that  a  man  of  high  rank 
who  wished  to  accompany  the  remains  to  Galicia 
was  not  able  to  go  in  the  vessel ;  accordingly  he  rode 
his  horse  into  the  sea  and  miraculously  made  his 
way  by  water.  When  he  emerged  from  the  sea 
both  he  and  his  horse  were  covered  with  scallop- 
shells.  The  legends  are  picturesque  if  not  con- 
vincing ;  the  fact  remains  that  the  scallop  is  the 
emblem  of  St.  James's  pilgrimage  now  as  it  has  been 
since  he  gave  his  name  to  Spain's  Jerusalem. 

A  road,  newly  cut,  leads  from  Santiago  to  the 
summit  of  a  hill  towards  the  west,  and  on  the  top 
of  that  ennnence  there  is  a  granite  monument  which 
makes  the  fourteenth  cross  to  be  reached  by  the 
devout  visitor  who  wishes  to  complete  the  pil- 
grimage. I  do  not  know  the  name  of  either  the 
road  or  the  eminence,  but  the  one  may  be  called 
the  Pilgrims'  Road  and  the  other  the  Pilgrims' 
Hill.  Nothing  can  exceed  the  solemn  grandeur  of 
the  prospect  from  the  monument.  If  it  is  Sunday, 
and  eventide,  the  sound  of  distant  bells  will  reach 
you,  and  the  golden  crosses  on  the  graceful  spires 


I 


'    fl 


i 

i 


I< 


96  A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 

will  glint ;  beyond  the  city,  and  around  it,  sweeping 
in  majestic  curves,  are  the  Gahcian  hills,  and  behind 
you  liiore  hills,  ridge  beyond  ridge,  with  darkness 
settling  on  them,  so  that  they  look  like  colossal 
rollers  in  the  Western  Ocean  when  a  heavy  gale  has 

blown.  , , 

Covering  an  area  which  seems  a  mere  oblong 
speck  on  the  enormous  surface  of  the  landscape, 
Santiago  stands  supreme.  It  is  the  only  Imng 
thing  in  what  appears  to  be  a  dead  settmg.  Ihere 
is  perfect  Sabbath  stillness  in  the  air,  and  you  see 
the  city  now,  when  here  and  there  a  peasant  slowly 
climbs  the  winding  road,  as  old-time  pilgrims  must 
have  looked  upon  it  at  the  end  of  long  and  weary 

"''"BeSnd   you  is  Arosa  Bay,  one   of  the   world's 
finest   anchorages,  where  modern   fleets  may  safely 
lie;  near   it    is    Finisterre,    the    grim    promontory 
which  is  made  by  all  cautious  mariners  who  voyage 
north  and  south  across  the  Biscay,  and  where  Anson 
won    his    famous  victory,   and   past   which   Nelson 
sailed   to  win   his  crowning  triumph  in   Trafalgar 
Bay      In    Elizabeth's    time    Drake  and    Hawkins, 
Raleigh  and  the  other  sea-dogs  sailed  along  the  rock- 
bound  coast  intent  on  war  and  pillage,  and  Drake 
reached  that  quaint  city  nestling  in  the  hills  whose 
golden  crosses  glisten  in  the  sun  by  day  and  whose 
lights  show  clearly  in  the  darkness  after  sunset ;  for 
Middle  Ages  and  modernity  are  linked  at  Santiago, 
and  the  garish  arc-lamp  supplements  the  glimmer  of 
the  candle. 


-) 


?S4 


A    LOU  AN 


CHAP.  IV 
THINGS 

SEEN 


1 

4 


m 


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^.  ; 


it' 


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ii4 


O 
< 


7: 


CHAPTER  IV 

THINGS  SEEN 

Galicia  is  a  land  of  sharp  contrasts,  and  the  things 
seen  include  sights  which   cannot   be  witnessed  in 
any  other  country  within  such  easy  reach  of  London. 
The   bullock-cart  creaks  by  the  side  of  the  railway, 
the  peasant  with  a  Roman  plough  turns  up  the  soil 
within  sound  of  the  electrical  machinery  of  a  corn- 
mill,  the  swift  motor-car  rushes  past  the  old-world 
diligence    on    the    highway,  and  the    incandescent 
burner  or  electric   lamp  keeps    company  with  the 
ancient   candle.      Orange-groves  abound    and  vine- 
yards carpet   the  landscape,  while  the  stately  liner 
sends  her  bow-wave  swishing    at  the  bare  feet  of 
fishwives   who  are  handling   catches   as    they    were 
handled  in  the  days  of  Jesus.      A  peasant  may  prod 
and  drag  his  team  of  oxen  past  a  modern  school  in 
which  his  brother  may  be  learning  chemistry  and  his 
sister   millinery,  and   the  old   man  who  has  never 
learned  to  read  and  write  listens   to   the   machines 
which  print  the  newspaper  whose  symbols  are  to  him 
a  mystery ;  the  nun,  a  life-long  prisoner  in  her  gaol- 
like convent,  hears  the  booming  of  guns  in  ships  of 

yy 


m 


11 


*  I 


,i' 


100  A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 

war  whose  purpose  is  to  keep  and  further  liberty, 

zi  L  fZ,  tLsured,  girdle,  ^f i^:^',^'";^:: 

the  cathedral  floor  beside  a  woman  dressed  ,n  Parisian 
gown  and  hat.  ^  These  are  amongst  tlnngs  -en  ^ 
L  leisurely  traveller,  but  even  the  hasty  tounst 

ty  make  Zpas-g  ^^^'^^'^^''V  tCZ^- 
and  fascinating  customs  and  peoples.  Ihe  pleasure 
s^ker  may  have  constant  recreation  and  enjoyment, 
S  studJnt  of  ancient  cities  and  remains  finds 
tterial  wherever  he  goes,  and  ^he  lover  o-h^o- 
Wical  and  ecclesiological  memorials  and  structures 
X  carry  out  a  long  tour  and  find  at  the  end  that 
he  has  only  touched  the  fringe  of  the  subject. 

The  eiy-going  visitor  may  constantly  step  aside 
from    he  beaten  path  and  encounter  new  aspects  of 
Segan  life,  and  learn  something  interesting  that 
Tnof  mentioned  in  even  the  best  of  gmde-books 
i  thLk  the  very  impossibility,  a.  it  seems  to  be  of 
LS  at  the  Ll  truth  of  some  Galician  mat  ers 
fs  one  of  the  charms  of  going  about  the  country. 
BaldLr,  omnipotent   in   travel,  has  -J^d  many 
things  in  North-West  Spain,  or  omitted  them  ^ 
S  superfluous  or  unattractive,  while  details  wh^ch 
S  ^ubllhed  in  his  masterpieces  are  at  v-ancewv^ 

1  ^f  information.     For  example,  baedeKer 

other  sources  oi  intormaxioii.     xw  r  Qf^rir, 

Ites  that  the  population  of  Pontev^a  -  J^^^^^ 
but  Murray  gives  the  number  as  21,000,  a  startimg 
a^d  bewillLg  difference  The  f -P^^^^^^^^ 
ever  is  understandable,  because  it  is  one  of  the 
haTde  of  all  things  in  Galicia  to  get  r^^^^^^^ 
statistics.      The   Gallegan  treats    any  demand    for 


THINGS  SEEN 


101 


census  details  as  Englishmen  deal  with  income-tax 
papers. 

Wandering  off  the  high  road  and  through  some 
vineyards  and  maize-fields  not  far  from  Caldas,  I  saw 
a  fine  old  house.      This  was  at  the  village  of  San 
Benito,   where   also   I   came   across   a   quaint   little 
church  connected  with  the  house  by  a  small  bridge. 
A    few  yards   from    the   church,   and  just  off  the 
highway,   was    a    curious    open-air    platform,    used 
in  connection   with  religious  ceremonies  at  certain 
seasons    of   the    year ;    for   even  this    tiny  hamlet 
attracts    pilgrims,    many    of   whom   travel    to    get 
a  saintly   cure  for  warts  and  such-like  unromantic 
ailments    of   the    flesh.       There  was   no    difficulty 
in     obtaining     permission    to    inspect    the    house, 
which  has  a  fine  and  well-preserved   coat  of  arms 
in    the   stonework    outside,    and   to    visit    the    ad- 
joining   vineyards — indeed,    I    was    well     received, 
under  the  impression  that  I  was  a  person  of  im- 
portance in  the  wine  trade.      The  building  is  seven 
hundred    years    old,    and   certainly   looks    its    age, 
both   inside  and   outside ;    further,  I  was   informed 
the  vineyards  yield  from  nine  to  twelve  pipes  of  red 
and    white  wine  yearly,  according  to   the    season  ; 
and  the  average  price   obtained   is   205   pesetas  a 
pipe. 

After  my  inspection  of  the  house  and  vineyards 
I  was  pressed  by  the  proprietor,  with  true  Spanish 
hospitality,  to  try  the  new  vintage,  which  I  did, 
drinking  the  white,  cider-like  beverage  from  a 
tumbler   just    as    one  would    take    water.      I   had 


m 


i 


tt  iM 


102  A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 

three  samples,  and  although  I  was  warned  that 
pains  and  penalties  would  follow  I  felt  no  lU-effect 
whatever,  and  continued  my  journey  stationward 
with  every  possible  good  feeling  towards  my  fellow- 
creatures  in  Gahcia.  By  that  time  I  had  left  the 
Spanish  carriage  in  which  I  had  been  driving,  and 
walked  in  pleasant  companionship  along   the  road 

towards  Caldas  station.  •      r      '*■ 

There  was  a  wonderful  peace  in  the  air  for  it 
was  Sunday  evening,  and  work  had  ceased.  The 
peasants  were  out  and  about,  the  women  sitting,  the 
men  smoking  and  leaning  against  doors  or  walls, 
and  the  children  playing  before  being  put  into 
their  primitive  beds.  The  chimes  from  neighbour- 
ing churches  mingled  with  the  pleasant  tinkle  of 
the  bells  worn  by  the  two  small  horses  which  were 
drawing  the  conveyance. 

Darkness  was  falling  quickly,  and  the  stars  were 
shining  beyond  the  hills  and  overhead.      Peasants 
were   coming  towards  us,   young    men    and  young 
women,  laughing  and  chatting  gaily,  and   some  of 
them  singing  sweet  Gallegan  songs.     In  England 
even  in  the  villages,  people  of  the  same  ages  and 
condition  would  have  been  bellowing  banalities  from 
music-halls.     The  twilight  was  short  and  the  road 
and  country  were  soon  in  almost  perfect  darkness,  for 
there  were  no  lights  or  lamps  of  any  ^rt     I  reached 
Caldas  station  in  company   with  a  little  diligence 
which    dashed    up     in    the    gloom,    indicated    by 
the  voices   of  the   driver  and   passengers   and   the 
thudding  of  the  ponies^  hoofs  and  tinkle  of  their 


THINGS  SEEN 


103 


bells,  as  well  as  by  a  tiny  lamp  in  the  interior  of 
the  vehicle.  There  was  practically  no  illumination 
in  the  station,  on  the  walls  of  which  a  melancholy 
oil-lamp  was  suspended,  serving  just  to  outline  the 
figures  of  the  waiting  passengers.  Nothing  came 
out  of  the  vast  surrounding  darkness  except  the 
occasional  sounds  of  the  peasants'  songs,  and  there 
was  something  so  amazingly  primitive  and  peaceful 
in  the  evening  and  the  place  that  it  gave  one  almost 
a  shock  to  have  a  second  oil-lamp  turned  up  on  the 
platform  and  to  hear  the  approaching  train  and  see 
the  head-lights  of  the  locomotive ;  yet  after  a  few 
miles  had  been  covered  I  looked  from  the  carriage 
windows  upon  the  bright  electric  lights  of  Redondela 
station,  and  had  time  to  take  some  wine  and  food 
before  re-entering  a  train  and  journeying  back  to 
Vigo. 

It  is  your  duty,  if  only  for  the  sake  of  experience, 
to  enter  one  of  the  wayside  inns  of  Galicia,  the 
fondas  and  posadas  at  which  your  motor-car,  motor- 
bus,  diligence,  or  carriage  draws  up  in  travelling. 
It  may  be  a  place  which  is  comparatively  imposing, 
with  bottles  of  spirits  and  wines  ranged  temptingly 
on  shelves,  and  a  right-angled  counter  containing 
sundry  articles  of  refreshment,  with  a  dining-room 
adjoining  the  bar,  and  all  clean  and  attractive  in 
appearance ;  it  may  be  an  appalling  establishment 
from  which  you  are  fain  to  fly  on  swallowing 
your  drink  and  in  which  you  are  grateful  to  your 
cigarette ;  or  it  may  be  a  house  which  is  neither 
good  nor    bad,    but    incorrigibly    indifferent      Go 


\^^ 


f 


m4 


ii 


ill 
1^ 


^' 


f. 


104  A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 

into  them  all ;    there  is  something  new  and  fresh 

in  each.  _ 

The  first  fonda  I  entered  was  at  Porrino,  and 
that  was  on  a  Sunday.      Next  door  wa^  a  barber^s 
shop,   open    to    the    air,   with   a  priest  readmg   a 
newspaper    while    awaiting    his    turn    for  a   shave. 
The  sign  of  the  trade  was  a  brass  dish   danghng 
from  a  chain,  in  contradistinction  to  the  impressive 
tonsorial  pole  of  British  facial  artists,  of  whom  it 
would  be   wrong  in  these  levelling  days  to  speak 
as  barbers.      Peasants  were  entering  the  fonda,  and 
some,  men  and  women,  were  seated  at  bare  wooden 
tables,  breakfasting   on  bread   and  wine.      At  the 
counter  I  bought  for  a  penny  an  excellent  aniseed, 
liqueur,  and  for  the  equivalent  of  a  shilling  came 
away  with  a  full  large  bottle  of  the  spirit,  which 
experience  proved  more  than  rivalled  cocoa  in  its 
comforting  and  grateful  qualities.      Incidentally,  on 
re-entering  the  motor-bus,  I  saw  a  large  dead  rat 
lying  in  the  middle  of  the  road.     Three  days  later, 
on  returning  to  Porrino  and  the  fonda,  I  noticed 
that  the  carcase  was  still  there— also  a  decayed  and 
dejected  diligence  on  the  pavement,  a  vehicle  which 
could,  however,  be  galvanised  into  active  service  in 
case  of  need.      Porrino,  however,  is  not  a  typical 
Galician  village,  and  is  no  more  representative  of 
the  charms  and  beauties  of  the  country  than  Wigan 

is  of  England.  ,•  v,     -4^ 

The  visitor  will  often   witness    sights  which,    it 

not  exactly  pleasant,  are  fuU  of  interest,  as  showing 

something  of  the  people^s  lives.     I  saw  in  comers 


i  I* 


A  GALICIAN  FISHINCi-BOAT 


■t 


HA 


\\ 


MEN  AND  WOMEN  ROWING  UP  VIGO  BAY 


THINGS  SEEN 


105 


of  vineyards  or  gardens  the  carcases  of  kids  sus- 
pended ;  and,  driving  down  a  village  street,  I 
observed  the  body  of  an  immense  pig  which  had 
been  killed.  The  animal  had  been  placed  on  the 
stones  in  front  of  the  door  of  a  cottage,  and  a  man 
and  his  wife,  helped  by  children,  were  heaping  up 
branches  and  faggots.  When  I  returned  this 
material  was  burning,  and  on  inquiry  I  was  told 
that  this  was  the  Galician  method  of  removing  the 
bristles. 

In  Galicia  you  may  travel  in  perfect  comfort 
and  security  along  many  of  the  roads  and  into 
many  of  the  towns  which  in  Borrow**s  day,  only 
seventy  years  ago,  were  infested  with  murderers  and 
robbers,  and  the  idea  of  danger  and  peril  will  never 
so  much  as  enter  your  mind — a  state  of  peacefulness 
which  is  largely  due  to  those  splendid  fellows  of 
the  Civil  Guard ;  yet  wherever  he  went  Borrow 
ran  great  risks  to  life  and  limb.  Frequently  he 
took  advantage  of  a  military  escort,  and  at  one 
time,  travelling  from  Lugo  to  Corunna,  he  had  the 
support  of  a  band  of  picturesque  ruffians  who  had 
all  the  appearance  of  banditti,  and  would  have 
created  a  sensation  in  a  Drury  Lane  drama. 

"  They  were  all  men  in  the  prime  of  life,'^  says 
Borrow,  "  mostly  of  tall  stature  and  of  Herculean 
brawn  and  limbs.  They  wore  huge  whiskers,  and 
walked  with  a  fanfaronading  air,  as  if  they  courted 
danger,  and  despised  it.  .  .  .  Their  proper  duty  is 
to  officiate  as  a  species  of  police  and  to  clear  the 
roads  of  robbers,  for  which  duty  they   are  in  one 


i 

•    li 


t^       ! 


\    ' 


n 


106 


A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 


THINGS  SEF.N 


107 


v 


respect  admirably  calculated,  having  been  generally 
robbers  themselves  at  one  period  of  their  lives.**' 

Alas!  these  romantic  ruffians  have  disappeared 
from  Galician  highways,  and  their  nearest  proto- 
types to-day  are  harmless  peasants  adorned  with 
flowing  side-whiskers,  the  style  of  decoration 
favoured    by    respectable    and     inoffensive     British 

butlers. 

To  my  lasting  regret  I  did  not  thoroughly  re- 
read my  Borrow  until  I  returned  from  Galicia, 
because  Galicia  fascinated  him,  and  he  covered 
much  of  the  ground  that  I  personally  traversed, 
and  looked  upon  many  awesome  sights  which  I, 
in  a  spirit  of  modernity  and  commerce,  would  have 
photographed. 

At  the  bridge  of  Castellanos,  "  a  spot  notorious 
for  robbery  and  murder,  and  well  adapted  for  both,'" 
Borrow  passed  "  three  ghastly  heads  stuck  on  poles 
standing  by  the  wayside  ;  they  were  those  of  a 
captain  of  banditti  and  two  of  his  accomplices, 
who  had  been  seized  and  executed  about  two 
months  before.  Their  principal  haunt  was  the 
vicinity  of  the  bridge,  and  it  was  their  practice  to 
cast  the  bodies  of  the  murdered  into  the  deep  black 
water  which  runs  rapidly  beneath.''  Borrow  added 
that  the  three  heads  would  always  live  in  his 
remembrance,  particularly  that  of  the  captain, 
which  "  stood  on  a  higher  pole  than  the  other 
two :  the  long  hair  was  waving  in  the  wind  and  the 
blackened,  distorted  features  were  grinning  in  the 


sun. 


All  this  sounds  very  gruesome  and  barbarous  ; 
yet  such  sights  were  common  in  England  at  the  same 
time,  for  those  were  the  days  of  public  executions 
and  gibbeting  of  corpses. 

The  things  seen  in  Galicia  do  not  include  the 
woeful  exhibitions  of  ignorance  of  the  native  lan- 
guage which  are  so  common  on  the  part  of  the 
Englishman  abroad,  especially  in  France.  Even 
the  hardy  British  matron  who  in  Paris  will  address 
the  cabman  as  cochon  refrains  from  speech  in  Galicia, 
because  no  word  of  Spanish  has  formed  part  of  her 
education.  Yet  a  working  acquaintance  with  the 
language  can  be  easily  obtained,  for  Spanish, 
though  of  all  modern  tongues  the  least  understood 
by  Englishmen,  is  the  easiest  to  learn.  Borrow 
declared  it  to  be  the  most  sonorous  tongue  in 
existence.  In  my  own  wanderings  I  had  the 
constant  help  and  guidance  of  an  excellent  inter- 
preter, and  the  tourist  would  do  well  to  avail  him- 
self of  such  skilled  assistance,  which  leaves  him  free 
to  enjoy  the  charms  of  the  country  and  the  customs 
and  peculiarities  of  the  people.  The  system  also 
removes  the  need  for  travellers  to  adopt  Borrow's 
idea  of  making  a  foreigner  understand  them  in  his 
own  language ;  that  method  being  to  speak  "  with 
much  noise  and  vociferation,  opening  their  nwuths 
wide."  He  protests  that  when  his  fellow-country- 
men attempt  to  speak  the  most  sonorous  of  all 
tongues  they  put  their  hands  in  their  pockets  and 
fumble  lazily,  instead  of  applying  them  (their  hands, 
not  their  pockets)   to   the    indispensable    office    of 


^ » 


i  H 


y 


-ii  I'liih  r^i 


i 


108  A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 

gesticulation.  "Well  may  the  poor  Spaniards 
exclaim;'  he  adds  despairingly,  "  These  English  talk 
so  crabhedly  that  Satan  himself  zvould  not  be  able 
to  understand  them^  To  do  my  countrymen  justice, 
I  am  bound  to  say  that,  with  a  single  exception,  I 
never  heard  them  attempt  to  speak  Spanish  in 
Galicia ;  and  as  for  the  isolated  case,  I  was  assured 
that  his  Spanish  was  too  bad  to  be  intelligible. 


\\ 


\    \  WJ 


!li: 


m 


THE  CIJLi:c:i    AT   BOII^VS,   ON   THE   COAST 


CHAPTER  V 
THE  ATLANTIC 
COAST  AND 
THE  FRONTIER 


II 


H\ 


Il 


\l 


H 
Z 

o 

Qi 

tu 

H 
Z 

o 
> 

U 

I 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  ATLANTIC  COAST  AND  THE 

FRONTIER 

If    one   could    be  high  enough  in  air  and    had   a 

sufficient   range  of  vision,   one  would  see  Galicia''s 

coast   on  the  Atlantic  side  jutting  into  the  ocean 

something  after  the  manner    of   the  jagged    teeth 

of   a   colossal    saw,   from    the    fangs    of   Finisterre 

to    the    greater    fangs    southward    between  Muros, 

Arosa,  Pontevedra,  and  Vigo  Bays,  and  northward 

to  Cape  Ortegal.      But  it  is  not  necessary  to   soar 

skyward  to  comprehend  what  Galicia's  coast  is  like, 

for  that  can  be  done  from  the  promenade  deck  of  a 

liner  and   the  tops  of  hills.      The   wild,   romantic 

scenery  at  Ferrol,  Corunna,  and  remoter  places  like 

Finisterre  and  Corcubion  are  in  themselves  enough 

to  fascinate  the  visitor  who  seeks  majestic  solitude 

and  primitive  existence.     Finisterre  is  a  region  in 

which    several    famous    British    battles    have    been 

fought.       In     1747     Anson     defeated     a    French 

squadron  off  the  promontory,  a  victory  for  which  he 

was  made  a  peer.      It  was  near  Finisterre,  too,  that, 

three  months  before  Trafalgar,  Sir  Robert  Calder 

111 


1  > 


112  A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 

valiantly  attacked  the  far  superior  French  fleet 
under  Villeneuve  and  captured  two  of  his  ships; 
and  in  these  waters  Sir  Richard  Strachan  made 
prizes  of  the  ships  under  Dumanoir  which  had 
escaped  from  Trafalgar. 

Ferrol  is  one  of  the  most  striking  natural  har- 
bours in  the  world.     It  is  best  seen  when  entered 
from    the    Atlantic.       Nature    has    made    a    canal 
in     the    iron    cliffs    by     cutting    a    straight    sht 
something    like    a    mile    in    length,  and    through 
this  amazing  cleft    vessels    enter    the    noble    shel- 
tered   basin    which    forms    the    harbour.       Ferrol 
has    one    of   the   largest    populations   of   Galicia's 
towns— over    20,000— and    is  famous    mostly  for 
its  arsenal ;    the  town,    indeed,  is  Galicia's  Ports- 
mouth.    Naval    officers    and    cadets    and     seamen 
are  met  everywhere   in  the  Calle   Real  and  other 
streets,    and    splendid    views    of   the   harbour  and 
dockyard    are    easily    obtainable.       In    these   days 
Ferrol    is    very    different    from    the    town    which 
Borrow   saw,  for  it  was    then    suffering    from  the 
blight    which    feU    on     Spain    as    the    result    of 

Trafalgar, 

"  Grass  was  growing  in  the  streets,  and  misery 
and  distress  stared  me  in  the  face  on  every 
side  ..."  he  wrote.  "  Only  a  few  ill-paid  and 
half-starved  workmen  still  linger  about.  .  .  • 
Half  the  inhabitants  of  Ferrol  beg  their  bread. 
But  Ferrol  to-day  has  a  cheerful  aspect,  and  vast 
changes  are  being  made  with  the  help  of  foreign 
capital  and  foreign  engineers.     Enormous   modem 


i, 


m 


iBk^OiLi^ 


aiiiiti4k.iiir.  . ItLiLh.'Ld'  Lh.iVJiuiiidiuiitiii!.kiy.  L.  Vu>rfi;.M.JillLiii£JliillS 


r 


H 

O 

^< 
(/J 


O 


ATLANTIC  COAST  AND  FRONTIER    115 

machinery  plants  are  being  installed,  and  there  is 
hope  that  in  no  very  remote  years  Spain  will  be 
able  to  build  all  her  own    ships  of  war.     She  is 
exceptionally  fortunate  in  the  lavishness  of  Nature's 
provision  of  safe  and    beautiful    harbours    for  her 
fleet's   accommodation.       The   gigantic   and   costly 
dredgers  of  the  Mersey  and  the   Thames  are  not 
needed    in    the    Galician    bays.     Ferrol  has  many 
attractions  in    its    neighbourhood    for    antiquaries, 
who  have  found   here  some  of   the  most  interest- 
ing of  Galicia's  Celtic  remains.      The  district,  too, 
is  reminiscent  of  St.   James,  who  is  credited  with 
the  founding   of  the  ex-Colegiata   de  Caaveiro,  a 
dozen    miles    to    the    east    of   the    arsenal.       This 
building     is     one     of    the    great    ancient    military 
religious  strongholds  of  the  country,  and  possesses 
dark,  damp  dungeons  in   which  captives  were   not 
able  either  to  lie  down  or  stand  upright. 

Borrow  would  be  amazed  if  he  could  revisit 
Ferrol  and  overlook  that  arsenal  of  which  he  gave 
such  a  depressing  description.  He  would  find, 
it  is  true,  that  the  Spaniards  proceed  in  the 
leisurely  fashion  of  his  own  generation,  because 
they  retain  a  love  of  putting  off  for  accomplish- 
ment to-morrow  the  disagreeable  duties  of  to-day. 
They  believe  in  the  blessed  manana.  For  a  long 
time  there  has  been  at  Ferrol  a  desultory  kind  of 
shipbuilding,  and  a  vessel  is  to  be  seen  on  which 
the  Spaniards  have  been  at  work  for  fifteen  years. 
She  is  still  unfinished.  Again  vianana.  But  new 
life    and    energy    have    been    introduced    into    the 

u 


M 


^  • 


lU  A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 

Atlantic  arsenal,  and  under  the  guidance  of  three 

^t  British  engineering  and  ^^^^^^^^^^^^ 

very    large    amount    of   capital    nas  oeei 

fo^the  purpose  of  reconstructing  the  a^n^  and 

the  Spanish    navy.     The   firms    we    Sir    W.    ^^ 

Armstrong,  Whitworth  &  Co.,  Ltd     Messrs^John 

Brown  &   Co.,  Ltd.,  and  Messrs.  Vickers,  Sons  & 

Ulsira,  Ltd.,  and  a  general  control  -  e™d  .^ 

the   Advisory   Committee,    who    are  the    technical 

^tralTof  theSoci^ad  ^sp^oj,^  J«f-t"n 
Naval  the  Spanish  company  which  has  undertaken 
rtrU.     it  P-nt  ;bout  .000  workmen  are 

i:St'  ^'T.t:Lr..%Z\^   the    under 

Eg  te    mostly    British.      The   programme    of 

S^nftitution    will    extend   over  -en    ^rs  jd 

the  total  sum  which  is  being  spent  'J  f J'«««;«°^^^ 

All  the  steel  which  is  necessary  for  this  g^eat  new 

tl^'^  being  «.l.ea  .t  Bilbao.   ^J'^^ 

ru>ughts,    somewhat  smaller  m  ^-e  than  ov.  own, 

are  being  built   at  Ferrol,  the  cost  of  *^^^^   con 

struction  being  included  in  the  ^^,000  000 

This  Spanish  arsenal  has  an  excellent  club  tor 
artS's,  an  institution  with  a  large  membership^ 
Se  club  is  of  a  very  complete  character  and 
^^binet  the  advantag'es  of  an  edu-^ion^^^^^^ 
tablishment  with    social    enjoyments  and    sick  pay 

""  D^ng  the  Napoleonic  wars  Ferrol  w^  attacked 
by  Sir  James  Pulteney,  who  in  July  ^^^^^f 
from    England   in   command    of   a    secret    expedi- 


ATLANTIC  COAST  AND  FRONTIER    116 
tion     of    8000     men.       The    objective    was    the 
coast  of  France ;    but  Pulteney,  finding    the  task 
too  big  for  him,  made  for  Ferrol.     He  defeated 
the  Spaniards  in  two  skirmishes  and  took  posses- 
sion of  the  heights  above  the  harbour.     Then  he 
suddenly  withdrew  his  forces,  owing,  according  to 
one  story,  to  the  fact  that  the  enemy  had   been 
greatly    strengthened,    but    in     reality,    it    seems, 
because  of  secret  instructions  which  had  been  given 
to  him  to  retire.     In   1805,  when  Napoleon  had 
thirty-eight   French  ships  of  the   line  and    thirty 
Spanish,  with   170,000  men,  almost  ready  for  the 
invasion  of  England,  Ferrol  was  one  of  the  three 
ports  which  Spain  used  for  her  fleet's  requirements. 
Just  before  Trafalgar  Villeneuve  took  refuge  in  the 
port  to   escape    from    the    British,   an    act    which 
threw  Napoleon  into  a  transport  of  fury  and  made 
him  exclaim  bitterly :  "  All  hope  is  gone !     That 
Villeneuve,    instead    of   entering  the  Channel,  has 
taken  refuge  in  Ferrol !     It  is  all  over ! "" 

When  Moore  had  fallen  at  Corunna  and  the 
town  had  been  occupied  by  Soult  he  marched  to 
Ferrol,  which  he  took,  with  seven  ships  of  the  line 
and  immense  quantities  of  naval  stores.  The  town 
was  held  for  several  months,  during  which  Soult 
gave  Marshal  Ney  the  task  of  fighting  in  Galicia ; 
but  the  rugged  country  and  the  valour  of  the 
Gallegans  were  too  much  for  even  the  "bravest 
of  the  brave,''  and,  believing  that  he  had  been 
deserted  by  Soult,  Ney  abandoned  Corunna  and 
Ferrol  and  marched  away  from  Galicia.  • 


it 


116  A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 

Within    convenient  access    of  Ferrol   and    only 
two  miles  iron,  Betanzos  is  the  f  ^ WV^'*;^*^ 
town   of  Puentedeume.     Formerly  this   place   ws^ 
noted  for  a  bridge  which   was   a    mile    long    and 
possessed   no   fewer    than    fifty-eight    arches ;    but 
5,is  was  destroyed  in  1868,  and  was  replaced  by  a 
„,odern  structi.     Betanzos  is  one  of  the  quaintest 
and  most    beautifully   situated    towns    '"    ^ahci^ 
It  is  full  of  historical  charm,  and  in  addition  to 
its  old  churches  possesses  the  ruins   of  a  Moorish 
castle     The  town  rises  from  the  banks  of  an  inland 
W  and  on  the  journey  by  road  between  Corunna 
and  Ferrol  the  visitor  has  an  opportumty  of  seeing 
Betanzos  from  all  points  of  view.     First  he  beholds 
it  from  an    altitude,  nestling  snugly  in  a  hoUow 
then  he    passes  through   its   old  romantic  streets, 
which  are  villainously  paved  and  crooked,  and  sees 
the  town  again  from  a  height  as  he  goes  towards 

Corunna  or  Ferrol. 

The  neighbourhood  of  Ferrol  is   to     he  sport  - 

man  one  of  the  most  alluring  parts  of  Gahcia  for  it 

Tbounds  in  beasts  and  birds  and  fishes  Hawks  and 
eagles  frequent  the  lonely  valley  of  Caaveiro,  deer 
arf  numerous,  and  in  the  autumn  and  winter  the 
wild  boar  is  hunted.  Salmon  and  trout  are  caught 
in  enormous  numbers,  and  wood-pigeons,  partridges, 
and  other  game  are  very  plentiful. 

Between  Ferrol  and  Corunna  commumcation  is 
maintained  by  steamer  and  diligence.  The  sea 
route    is    far    shorter    and     easier    than    tiie    land 

.journey,   the    vessels  in    fair   weather    making   the 


ATLANTIC  COAST  AND  FRONTIER    117 

trip  in  an  hour  and  a  half.  But  sometimes  for 
several  days  together  the  steamboats  cannot  run 
because  of  strong  winds  or  rough  seas,  and  when  I 
visited  Ferrol  they  had  been  kept  in  harbour  for 
three  days  owing  to  these  causes.  This  meant 
that  storm-bound  travellers  who  found  it  imperative 
to  reach  Corunna  to  embark  were  forced  to  take 
the  diligence  and  make  the  long  and  tedious  land 
journey.  To  the  easy-going  visitor,  however,  that 
journey  is  full  of  charm  and  interest,  including 
as  it  does  Betanzos,  and  giving  an  opportunity  of 
inspecting  the  Castillo  de  Moeche,  a  noble  old  ruin 
on  the  hill-side.  There  can  be  seen  also  on  the 
roadside,  not  far  from  Corunna,  a  modern  mansion 
in  beautiful  grounds,  which  was  built  in  the  hope 
that  the  present  King  of  Spain  would  take  it  as 
a  summer  residence  ;  but  the  monarch  was  not  able 
to  accept  the  offer. 

From  Corunna  to  Vigo  the  coast  is  bold  and 
jagged,  and  though  it  does  not  present  the  impos- 
ing appearance  of  Gibraltar,  in  the  south  of  Spain, 
or  offer  the  majestic  mountains  of  the  east  side  of 
the  Peninsula,  yet  it  has  in  its  bays  glories  and 
beauties  which  are  not  excelled  by  any  of  Spain's 
other  natural  attractions.  One  of  those  bays  at 
least,  Vigo,  will  be  seen  by  all  visitors  who  enter 
Galicia  in  Booth  liners,  and  there  is-  danger  that 
they  may  omit  some  of  the  delights  of  the  northern 
Qords  in  favour  of  a  journey  down  the  Atlantic 
coast  to  the  point  where  the  river  Mino  separates 
Spain  from  Portugal. 


\  I 


■M 


(I 


II 


118  A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 

To  the  frontier  of  Portugal  there  runs  a  carriage 
road  alongside  the  Atlantic,  which  is  irresistible  to 
the  motorist,  the  cyclist,  the  rider,  and  the  walker 
The  scenery  is  varied  and  beautiful,  beginning  with 
Vigo  and  continuing  to  Guardia.     On  the  one  side, 
when  the  southernmost  point  of  Vigo  Bay  has  been 
passed,  the  pleasant  village  of  Ramallosa  is  reached, 
with  its  extensive  view  across  the  yellow  sands,  and 
its  venerable  bridge  with  a  weather-worn  shrine  in 
the    middle.       Seven    miles   farther    on,  and   only 
fourteen  from  Vigo,  is  the  little  ancient  town  ot 
Bayona,   famous  chiefly  for  its    old  castle  on  the 
wooded  summit  of  the  Atlantic  shore. 

There  is  no  difficulty  in  getting  permission  to 
inspect  this  romantic  residence,  which  has  some 
delightful  grounds  finim  which  magnificent  views 
are  obtainable.  The  Atlantic  billows  sweep  up  the 
rocks  on  the  west  side  of  the  estate,  and  overlooking 
the  sea,  on  the  battlements,  is  a  curious  stone  table, 
with  stone  seats,  in  the  open  air,  with  a  cross  which 
is  visible  from   a   considerable    distance    over    the 

"""oae  of  the  most  beautiful  of  all  modern  light- 
houses is  to  be  erected  near  Bayona."    The  design 
takes  the  form  of  a  colossal  figure  of  the  Virgin, 
who  holds  in  her  left  hand  a  lantern  which  will  be 
lit  by  electricity.     Her  right  hand  supports  a  model 
of  a  ship,  sheltering  against  her  bosom-symbol  of 
the  protection  which  her  friendly  beams  afford  to 
craft  at  sea.     The  rocky  base  of  this  remarkable 
structure  will  have  a  number  of  steps  leading  from 


!         I  I 


THK  BRIDGE  AT  KAMALLOSA 


THE  SHKIXE  OX  THE  BRIDGE 


I 


\l- 


l«> 


IHi 


\  * 


ATLANTIC  COAST  AND  FRONTIER    119 

the  beach  to  a  terrace  from  which  the  visitor  may 
get  some  glorious  views  of  land  and  sea.  The  light- 
house will  be  known  as  the  Virgin  of  Bayona,  and 
will  stand  as  a  memorial  to  the  creative  ability  of 
its  designer,  an  archieect  of  Madrid  named  Seftor 
Antonio  Palachio. 

Still  with  the  refreshing  breeze  of  the  Atlantic 
meeting  you — the  ocean  so  near  that  the  air  is 
salt-laden — the  coast  journey  is  continued  to 
Guardia,  once  a  fortress  of  importance,  but  now  a 
ruined  relic  ;  then,  Galicia'^s  most  southerly  point . 
having  been  reached,  a  turn  inland  is  made,  and 
there  comes  into  view  the  Mino,  on  the  other  side 
of  which  is  Portugal.  The  river  here  is  a  fine 
stream,  and  there  is  in  the  neighbourhood  that 
subtle  interest  and  charm  which  characterise  all 
frontiers. 

The  Mino  is  skirted  until  an  ancient  city  perched 
upon  a  hill  is  seen  on  the  north  bank,  and  on  the 
south  another  city,  battlemented,  romantic,  mediaeval. 
The  one  is  Tuy,  an  ancient  Spanish  country  town  ; 
the  other  is  Valen^a,  an  old  Portuguese  fortress. 
These  frontier  towns  have  been  the  scenes  of  many 
battles  since  the  days  when  Witiza,  a  Gothic  king, 
lived  and  ruled  in  Tuy.  Witiza  resided  there  in 
700  ;  a  few  years  later  the  Moors  swept  down  upon 
and  wrecked  the  town  ;  but  the  Spaniards  recovered 
it,  and  eventually,  in  the  twelfth  century,  built  the 
cathedral  which  is  Tuy''s  most  striking  feature. 
No  visitor  can  fail  to  notice  the  uncommon  iron 
belfry  which  stands  out  against  the  sky  from    the 


120  A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 

surrounding  houses,  which  at  this  place  seem  to  be 
packed  excfptionally  close  together.  Tuy  has  only 
one  considerable  street,  called  the  Alameda  and 
offering  no  particular  charm  ;  mdeed,  the  town  s 
greLt  attraction  is  its  beautiful  situation  and 
proximity  to  Portugal.  , 

^  The  two  nations,  friendly  and  harmonious,  have 
a  joint  bridge  across  the  Mino,  and  it  is  a  very 
pleasant  little  excursion  to  cross  the  river  for  a 
peep  at  Portugal.  The  bridge  is  modern  and  very 
long-400  yards.  In  the  centre  is  a  carriage  road, 
above  which  is  the  railway  ;  and  on  each  side  of  the 
road  is  a  footpath,  from  which  very  fine  views  are 

had  of  Tuy,  Valen9a,and  the  "-^  "^^"jtS 
landscape.  At  Tuy  you  may  listen  to  the  bell, 
of  Portugal,  and  from  the  grey  wa  Is  of  Valen^a 
fortress  you  may  hearken  to  the  chimes  from  t^^j 
iron  belfry  on  the  house-topped  summit  of  the  hill 
on  which  the  Spanish  town  is  built. 

Sentries  allow  you,  being  inoffensive  visitors,  to 
cross  the   bridge  unchallenged       The  Spanish   and 
Portuguese  guards  take  their  duties  easily,  and  are 
much    less    business-like   than    British    or    German 
troops.      They   more    closely  resemble    the  French 
in    appearance    and    conduct.       It   is    different     of 
course,  if  one  attempts  to   take  a  Photograph   or 
make  a  sketch  in  the  region  of  a  fort.      The  use 
of  the  camera  is  not  allowed  in  these  places  with- 
out  permission,  nor   may  drawings  or   sketches  be 
made      My  friend  Mr.  Frank  H.  Mason,  m  travel- 
ling  '  for    the   purpose    of   illustrating   this    book, 


ATLANTIC  COAST  AND  FRONTIER    121 

crossed  the  frontier  to  Valen9a,  wishful  from  the 
battlements  to  sketch  Tuy.  Before  he  could  pro- 
ceed he  found  it  necessary  to  interview  the  officer 
commanding  the  Portuguese  guard.  Permission  was 
readily  and  politely  given,  but  while  the  artist 
secured  the  necessary  details  he  was  watched  by 
armed  sentries  who  had  been  told  off  for  the 
purpose.  It  was  a  picturesque  but  unnecessary 
proceeding,  for  there  does  not  appear  to  be  any 
serious  military  secret  about  the  defence  of  either 
Tuy  or  Valen9a. 

The  Atlantic  coast  has  been  left  behind  and  is 
out  of  sight;  but  there  is  now  an  even  more 
astonishing  panorama  than  the  ocean-fringe  itself 
has  offered,  for  the  Mino  runs  through  fertile, 
striking,  and  romantic  scenery  for  many  miles,  act- 
ing as  a  frontier  between  Spain  and  Portugal. 
Guillarey,  a  railway  junction  near  Tuy,  enables  the 
traveller  to  take  train  and  steam  along  the  bank 
of  one  of  the  most  picturesque  iron  roads  in  the 
world. 

Sixty  miles  away  is  the  town  of  Orense,  and  for 
fifty-five  miles  of  that  distance  the  railway  hugs 
the  bank  of  the  Mino,  so  closely  at  times  that  there 
seems  to  be  almost  a  prospect  of  the  locomotive 
and  its  carriages  going  into  the  water.  From  the 
windows  of  the  compartments  there  is  an  ever- 
changing,  fascinating  scene ;  now  of  the  river 
rushing  wildly  over  boulders,  or  going  smoothly 
to  the  sea ;  now  of  vineyard  upon  vineyard, 
Spanish   and   Portuguese,  rising  in   terraces  on   the 


\\ 


••I 


J 


i^ 


122  A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 

slope*  of  the  bills,  and  of  some  old  ruin  or  tower- 
ing landmark.      At   Salvatierra    station  there    are 
the  ruins  of  an  ancient  fort,  seemingly  on  the  plat- 
form   itself;  and    across    the  river    is    Mongao,  a 
mediaeval    city,  which    can    be    reached    by    ferry 
Hereabouts  is  a  famous  wine-growing  district,  and 
,0   fertile  is  the  country  that   it  is  spoken  of  as 
Galicia's  granary.     The    river  which  is  crossed  by 
the  iron  bridge  at  Salvatierra  is  the  Tea,  which  at 
this  place  runs  into  the  Mino. 

The  scenery  becomes  grander  and  grander  until 
Arbo  is  passed,  and  then,  eight  miles  farther  on, 
at  Friera  station,  Portugal's  highest  mountain  is 
seen,  the  Outeiro  Major,  with  an  altitude  of  nearly 
8000  feet,  rising  beyond  the  town  of  Melgaxfo, 
situated  on  its  slopes.  A  short  dj^^^*^  .t>eyond 
this  point  the  Portuguese  frontier,  indicated  by  a 
few  cottages,  is  left  behind  ;  but  the  character  of 
the  scenery  remains  the  same  as  far  as  Orense. 

Before  Orense   is  reached   there  is  a  chance  of 
seeing  the  old  and  picturesque  town  of  R»badav,a 
where   the  river  Aria,  on   the   banks  of  which  it 
stands,  joins  the  Miflo.     Ribadavia  has  a  popula- 
tion of  5000,  and  in  the  convent  of  Los  Dominicos 
possesses  a  building  which  was  at  one  time  a  royal 
Jalace,   though  probably  a  crude  one,  for  it  was 
occupied  by  monarchs  of  Galicia  when  the  country 
was  a  separate  kingdom.     The  town  is  very  quaint 
and  will  form  a  halting-place  for  visitors  who  like 
to  spend  a  few  hours  examining  it  while  awaiting 
the  return  of  the  train  from  Orense.     That  town, 


1 


ATLANTIC  COAST  AND  FRONTIER    123 

however,  will  offer  more  inducement  than  Ribadavia, 
especially  to  those  who  have  made  a  particular 
point  of  journeying  along  the  frontier  and  are  not 
disposed  to  go  beyond. 

Orense  is  a  very  ancient  city,  celebrated  for  its 
bridge  and  warm  baths,  which  for  many  centuries 
have  been  looked  upon  as  marvels.  These  baths, 
or  springs,  have  a  temperature  of  about  150°  Fahr., 
and  as  the  water  has  practically  neither  taste  nor 
smell  and  does  not  appear  to  possess  any  medicinal 
value,  it  is  used  for  washing  and  all  kinds  of 
domestic  purposes,  even  including  the  cleansing  of 
slaughtered  animals.  There  are  three  springs, 
called  Las  Burgas,  and  they  yield  about  thirty 
gallons  of  hot  water  each  minute. 

The  cathedral  is  an  imposing  building,  with  a 
very  gloomy  interior,  and  although  the  structure 
dates  from  the  sixth  century,  still  it  will  scarcely 
call  for  more  than  passing  attention  from  any  one 
who  is  not  ecclesiologically  inclined.  There  are, 
however,  some  extensive  and  magnificent  cloisters  at 
Orense,  which  may  be  viewed  by  permission,  and 
there  is  the  bridge.  This  is  a  remarkable  stone 
structure,  dating  from  the  thirteenth  century,  with 
a  length  of  more  than  1300  feet,  and  containing 
seven  arches.  One  of  these,  the  central,  known  as 
the  Grand  Arch,  is  156  feet  wide.  It  is  pointed, 
and  the  crown  is  135  feet  above  the  bed  of  the  river 
—  a  height  which  looks  very  considerable  both  from 
the  bank  of  the  river  and  the  walls  of  the  bridge. 

Tlie  Mino  rises  rapidly  and  to  a  great  height, 


\i 


124  A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 

and  it   was   with   the    object  of  safeguarding  the 
bridge  against    the    sudden    inundations    that  the 
arch  was  made  so  high.      The  bridge  ascends  from 
each  end  to  something  of  a  point  in  the  centre,  and 
is  one  of  the  wonders  of  Orense.     A  stone  in  the 
bridge  records  the  interesting  fact  that  that  parti- 
cular spot  is  exactly  555  kilometres-nearly  350 
miles— from    Madrid.       Beyond    the    springs,    the 
cloisters,  the  cathedral,  and  the  bridge,  the  town 
ha^  few  attractions,  but   whatever  it   may  lack   in 
the  shape  of  bricks  and  stones  and  mortar  is  more 
than     counterbalanced     by    the    glories    and    the 
grandeur  of  the  neighbouring  scenery. 


7 


^ ^-^ 


OXEN   TOWING    X   BROKEN-DOWN   MOTOR-BUS 


i 


ii 


CHAPTER    VJ 
LOCOMOTION 


« 


ii 


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m 


> 


O 


oe: 


CQ 


CHAPTER  VI 
LOCOMOTION 

The  diligence  is  still  the  national  vehicle  of  Galicia. 
It   is    to    be  met    on   the  high   roads  which  run 
between  some  of  the  chief  towns,  drawn  by  six  or 
nine  or  more  mules,  ponies,  or  horses ;  and  no  more 
picturesque  sight  can  be  imagined  than  that  of  the 
primitive  conveyance  in  a  country  district  lumber- 
ing   on    its  peaceful    way  in  the  hills  or  valleys, 
crowded  with  men  and  women  in  peasant  garb,  and 
the  top  piled  high   with   miscellaneous  goods  and 
baggage.     The  jingle  of  the  bells  gives  the   first 
warning  of  the  carriage's  approach  ;  then  there  is 
the  thud  of  the  hoofs  and  the  rumble  of  the  wheels, 
and  the  craning  of  heads  from  doors  and  windows. 
Travellers    who   have    spent    days    and    nights    m 
them,  cramped  and  crowded  in  berlmui  and  tntertor 
or  coups,  suffering  many  miseries  and  inconveniences, 
have  dwelt  on   the  perils  and    drawbacks    of   the 
diligence,  which  has  an  unfriendly  habit  of  capsmng 
and  kiUing  or  maiming  its  passengers,  and  whose 
arrival  at  any   given  place  is  subject  to  the  state 
of  road  and  weather  and  other  circumstance*. 

127 


!1 


128 


A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 


The  herlma  is  a  small  compartment  in  front, 
running  at  right  angles  to  the  wheels,  and  ranks  as 
first  class ;  the  interior^  second  class,  is  behind,  the 
seats  being  arranged  after  the  fashion  of  a  London 
bus ;  and  the  coupe,  third  class,  is  the  top  of  the 
vehicle  in  front  of  the  baggage.  In  the  good 
weather,  which  prevails  almost  throughout  the 
year  in  Galicia,  the  coupe  is  by  far  the  pleasantest 
and  cleanest  of  the  three  classes  of  accommodation  ; 
and,  perched  high  in  front  of  the  diligence,  the 
visitor  has  an  luiinterrupted  view  of  the  road,  and 
may  enjoy  the  scenery  and  look  upon  objects 
which  are  ceaseless  in  their  feiscination.  Joiu*- 
neying  by  diligence,  despite  its  drawbacks  and 
discomforts,  is  one  of  the  most  convenient  ways  of 
seeing  Galicia,  and  if  the  traveller  understands 
Spanish  there  is  every  opportunity  of  learning  the 
names  of  places  and  buildings  and  getting  explana- 
tions of  the  meaning  of  unfamiliar  customs.  The 
driver  is  seldom  at  a  loss  for  words  or  informa- 
tion, and  what  he  does  not  know  can  be  supplied 
by  the  conductor  or  a  friendly  passenger. 

Diligences,  big  and  little,  have  their  special 
names,  some  of  which  would  be  impressive  if  the 
vehicles  were  in  keeping  with  them.  Part  of  the 
system  of  Galician  driving  is  to  make  an  uproar 
from  the  box. 

One  Sunday  morning  I  mounted  a  ramshackle 
contrivance  called  El  Elegante,  and  took  a  seat 
beside  the  driver,  a  brigand- looking  person  who  was 
unwashed  and  unshaved.      Perched  above  me,  under 


A  DILIGENCE  OX  THE  HIGHWAY 


II 


OXEX  YOKED  TO  A   DILKJEXCE 


LOCOMOTION 


129 


the  canvas  hood,  was  a  small  Spanish  boy,  bare- 
footed, bare-legged  and  bare-headed — almost,  indeed, 
bare-bodied,  for  his  only  clothing  was  a  remnant  of 
shirt  and  precarious  trousers,  consisting  mostly  of 
patches.  He  planted  his  feet  on  my  shoulders  to 
steady  himself.  I  would  have  reproved  him,  but 
he  had  the  air  of  a  caballero,  and  the  road  saved 
me  the  trouble  of  requesting  that  he  should  cast  his 
burden  on  the  diligence.  His  feet  were  jerked  off 
their  perch  and  we  were  all  thrown  tumultuously 
about.  Three  wild-looking  little  ponies  were  har- 
nessed to  the  coach,  and  with  a  frantic  shouting  and 
stamping  the  driver  started  them  on  their  journey, 
flicking  his  long  whip  and  cursing  and  blessing 
them  by  turns.  Each  animal,  like  the  coach,  has  a 
name,  to  which  it  seems  to  be  entirely  unresponsive. 
The  ponies  were  in  no  need  whatever  of  a  fillip,  yet 
the  driver  lashed  out  furiously,  making  a  great  pre- 
tence of  flogging  them,  but  doing  no  real  hurt,  and 
spending  most  of  his  time  in  disentangling  the  lash 
from  the  harness.  Nor  was  there  any  occasion  for 
him  to  break  into  frenzied  shouts  and  lean  for- 
ward in  a  paroxysm  of  affected  energy  ;  but  he  did 
both,  and,  judging  from  his  looks  at  the  end  of  the 
journey,  he  was  satisfied  that  the  success  of  the 
drive  was  due  to  his  own  exertions,  and  was  not  in 
any  way  attributable  to  the  quadrupeds. 

The  railway  system  of  Galicia  is  imperfect. 
Only  three  lines  exist — the  West  of  Galicia  Rail- 
way, worked  by  English  capital,  the  system  which 
operates  from  Corunna,  and  the   track  which  runs 


'r'""^'-'ir'i[iii^-i 


a 


130  A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 

along  the  bank  of  the  Mino,  and  covers  some 
of  the  most  wonderful  scenery  in  the  country.  In 
time  other  systems  will  be  finished  and  in  course  of 
operation  ;  but  progress  marches  slowly  in  Galicia, 
and  there  is  no  hurry  in  the  country.  An  old 
Spamsh  proverb  says  that  by  the  road  of  By-and- 
by  you  will  arrive  at  the  town  of  Never;  and 
there  is  the  favourite  promise  of  manana,  which 
means  that  certain  things  will  be  accomplished  in 
the  fulness  of  time.  Amongst  them  is  the  com- 
pletion of  Galician  railways.  Fourteen  years  have 
been  spent  on  one  railway  between  Betanzos  and 
other  centres.  The  track  is  finished,  but  the 
system  is  not  complete,  and  to-day,  where  a  train 
should  take  you  swiftly  and  smoothly  across 
country,  you  jolt  and  jostle  in  a  dihgence,  or,  if 
you  are  fortunate,  travel  in  a  motor-car. 

Aged  engines  draw  Galicia's  rolling-stock;  yet 
the  carriages  themselves  are  very  comfortable.  The 
first-class  compartments,  by  which  alone  the  Booth 
Steamship  Company's  tourists  travel,  are  excel- 
lently adapted  to  the  country's  needs.  Many  of 
them  are  built  on  the  English  plan  of  small  com- 
partments, but  others  are  in  the  form  of  little 
saloons  capable  of  seating  about  a  dozen  passengers. 
Seats  after  the  manner  of  an  ordinary  English 
compartment  are  at  each  end  of  the  saloon,  and 
seats  are  on  each  side,  leaving  the  centre  free  for  the 
baggage  which  Galicians  cram  into  every  railway 
carriage  when  they  get  the  chance. 

These  small  saloons  are  about  equal  in  size  to 


f-N 


LOCOMOTION 


131 


two  English  compartments,  allowing  for  a  broader 
gauge  rail  in  Spain,  but  there  are  many  of  the 
eight-seated  compartments  which  are  common  to 
England  and  the  Continent.  In  these  coaches 
the  ordinary  Continental  system  is  adopted  of 
inserting  small  glass  panes  in  the  partitions,  so 
that  travellers  may  look  from  one  compartment 
to  the  other.  The  plan  has  its  objections  in 
the  estimation  of  those  who  seek  privacy,  but  it 
gives  comfort  to  the  nervous  and  unprotected 
passenger. 

In  England  smoking-carriages  are  labelled ;  in 
Galicia  the  forbidding  notice  is  put  on  the  vehicle 
where  smoking  is  not  allowed.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  you  may  smoke  anywhere  and  everywhere  in 
Galicia,  unless  great  pressure  or  sweetness  is 
brought  to  bear  on  some  offender  against  the  law. 
Yet  ladies  travelling  on  railways  may  reasonably 
hope  to  escape  from  suffering  and  annoyance,  for 
each  Galician  train  has  a  first-class  compartment 
exclusively  reserved  for  them.  Frequently,  even 
in  trains  which  were  well  filled,  I  observed  that  the 
compartment  ^'Reservado  para  Senoras^  was  empty, 
the  womenfolk  preferring  to  travel  with  the  men 
and  the  tobacco  smoke. 

Starting  a  Galician  train  is  a  serious  task. 
Before  you  are  allowed  to  enter  the  station  your 
bona  fides  as  a  traveller  must  be  established.  The 
carriages  are  shunted  to  the  platform  perhaps  half 
an  hour  before  the  advertised  time  for  leaving, 
then  at  a  later  stage  the  locomotive  is  backed  in 


i 


132  A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 

and  coupled,  and  in  due  season,  with  no  unseemly 
haste,  a  man  in  a  blouse  perambulates  the  platform 
and  chants  the  Spanish  equivalent  for  "  Gentlemen, 
please  embark,"  which  the  cabaJleros  do  at  their 
leisure.  The  engine  takes  breath,  as  it  were,  and 
a  trumpet  tootles;  then  the  driver  blows  the 
whistle,  and  if  you  are  leave-taking  you  jump 
frantically  on  board,  only  to  learn  that  ^\e  minutes 
pass  before  the  train  begins  to  move.  A  pro- 
longed blast  from  the  locomotive  is  the  preliminary 
for  a  leisurely  start — I  even  heard  it  suggested  that 
the  signal  exhausted  the  boiler  so  much  that  a 
delay  was  needed  to  raise  more  steam. 

Galician    trains    travel    slowly,    and    there    are 
protracted    waits    at    the    intermediate    stations — 
sometimes  long  enough  to  allow  the   passenger  to 
view   the  surrounding    scenery   or    stroll   into    the 
adjacent  town  or  village,   certainly  to  give  him   a 
chance  of  drinking  a  cup  of  coffee  or  glass  of  wine 
or  a  liqueur  at  the  refreshment-room,  if  one  exists. 
Faihng  that  establishment,  which  is  primitive  and 
unattractive  from  the  English  standpoint,  a  drink 
of  water  may  be  obtained  from  an  old  woman  who 
walks    about    the    platfonn    with    an    earthenware 
vessel.      At  Filguiera  station  I  saw  an  aged  dame, 
wearing  men's  boots,  dispensing  water  to  passengers ; 
near    her,    on    a    balcony,    was    an  unwashed    but 
picturesque  Spaniard  smoking  a  cigarette  ;  and  two 
small  girls  came  to  the  carriages    selling   a  sweet 
cake,  made  in  the  shape  of  a  ring.     I  bought  two 
for  a  copper,  and  they  proved  excellent  eating. 


LOCOMOTION 


183 


Yoimg  and  old  people  of  both  sexes  took  their 
duties  easily,  and  the  platelayers  went  about  their 
business  leisurely,  stepping  off  the  single  track  long 
before  the  warning  signal  of  the  whistle  sounded, 
and  gazing  meditatively  at  the  passing  and  de- 
parting train.  There  is  little  fear  of  the  Galician 
worker  on  the  line  sustaining  injuries,  because  he 
gets  out  of  the  way  long  before  the  train  reaches 
him — and  the  train  would  be  hard  pressed  to 
catch  up  even  a  retiring  platelayer.  The  speed  is 
very  limited,  and  once  when  I  was  travelling  by 
motor  on  a  road  which  ran  parallel  with  a  track 
the  chauffeur  easily  outdistanced  the  train,  and 
shot  triumphantly  across  the  metals  in  front  of  the 
engine. 

Motor-cars  are  not  numerous  in  Galicia,  but 
there  are  some  very  fine  examples  in  use ;  and 
despite  adverse  criticisms,  many  of  the  roads 
in  the  north-west  of  Spain  are  excellent.  The 
highways,  to  begin  with,  are  well  made,  but 
after  heavy  rains  they  become  lumpy  and  are 
neglected ;  but  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  large 
towns  they  are  well  cared  for,  and  cars  run 
smoothly  and  as  fast  as  the  driver  cares  to  go,  for 
except  in  passing  through  towns  and  villages  there 
is  no  speed  limit. 

Public  motor-cars,  corresponding  in  size,  power, 
and  appearance  to  the  London  motor-bus,  run 
regularly  between  Santiago  and  Corunna.  The 
herlina  will  seat  eight  persons,  but  not  more  than 
half  a  dozen  are  booked  as  a  rule.     The  accom- 


\ 


I 


^m 


134 


A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 


modation  is  equal  to  that  of  an  English  first-class 
compartment,  the  entrances  being  at  the  sides,  like 
a  railway  carriage.      The  rear  and  larger  part  of  the 
vehicle    is    given    to    second-class    passengers,    who 
enter  at  the  end.      In  front  there  is  room  for  two 
or  three  people,  and  a  passenger  may  sit  beside  the 
driver    and   enjoy  the  air  and  scenery.      The   roof 
of  the  conveyance  is  used  for   baggage,   of  which 
a  great  quantity  can  be   stowed.      Each  trunk   or 
package    carried    on  the  roof — and    care   is    taken 
that  the  passenger   shall    not  burden  the    interior 
with   his    belongings — has    pasted    on   it   a  yellow 
label    bearing   a   written    number.      These    motor- 
buses    usually    cover    the   journey    of    forty    miles 
between  Corunna  and  Santiago  in  three  and  a  half 
hours.       A   slower  service,   conducted    by   antique- 
looking  steam  vehicles,  requires  five  or  six  hours — 
about  half  the  time  occupied  by  the  diligence,  which 
you  will  easily  overtake  on  the  highway. 

Occasionally  the  motor-bus  will  break  down  and 
need  slight  repairs.      The  passengers   in  that  case 
may  get   out  and  stroll  along  the  road,   as  I  did. 
Blackberries   were  plentiful  in    the  hedges,  and   I 
gathered   and  ate  them,  much  to  the  astonishment 
of  some  fellow-travellers.       Spaniards    will  not   eat 
the    fruit,     but    several   of    them   gathered    black- 
berries and  insisted  upon  my  acceptance.      I  con- 
sumed as  many  as   I  cared  to  eat,  and  as  for  the 
rest,  I    left   them,  unobserved  by   the   donors,   for 
the    birds.       One    afternoon,   near  the   frontier,   I 
passed    a  motor    which   had  broken    down,  and  to 


LOCOMOTION 


135 


which  a  pair  of  oxen  had  been  yoked,  to  draw  the 
crippled  vehicle  away. 

Railway  train,  diligence,  and  motor  vehicle  are 
used  by  visitors  and  residents  in  Galicia,  but  there 
are  many  districts,  remote  from  towns,  where  the 
mode  of  locomotion  is  by  mule  or  donkey,  with 
occasional  horse  and  pony.  Everywhere  the 
peasant  woman  may  be  seen  riding  on  a  mule  or 
ass ;  and  sometimes  a  string  of  mules  will  come 
along,  each  bearing  a  brightly  clad,  laughing 
woman  of  Galicia;  or  in  a  remote  bridle-path  in 
the  hills  you  have  to  step  aside  into  a  field  or 
hedge  to  make  way  for  a  handsome  girl  of  the 
country  who  is  returning  to  her  father's  farm  from 
the  nearest  village,  sitting  contentedly  on  the 
mule  which  picks  its  way  easily  along  the  rough 
ground,  which  may  be,  and  often  is,  the  stony  bed 
of  a  little  stream. 

It  is  well  to  be  prepared  for  minor  shocks  in 
travelling.  Your  train  may  have  left  a  station 
at  night,  and  you  are  dozing  in  the  dimly  lit 
compartment.  Suddenly  you  are  fully  awake,  and 
by  the  light  of  the  oil-lamp  see  a  figure  outlined — 
a  man  in  corduroys  standing  almost  menacingly 
over  you.  He  is  not  a  brigand  nor  a  hold-up ; 
he  is  merely  the  inspector  wishing  to  see  your 
ticket.  He  has  clambered  to  the  door  by  way 
of  the  footboard,  and  has  opened  it  and  entered 
unseen.  When  he  has  done  his  task  he  leaves  by 
the  same  way,  and  proceeds  to  startle  some  other 
unsuspecting    and    unready    traveller.       At    other 


i 


136 


A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 


LOCOMOTION 


137 


times  a  man  in  semi-uniform,  with  a  cap  bearing 
a  small  metal  locomotive  as  a  badge  of  office,  will 
fall  upon  you  for  the  same  purpose,  and  then 
depart.  At  wayside  stations  you  will  see  him 
leaning  from  the  door  of  a  first-class  compartment, 
smoking  a  cigar  or  cigarette,  and  preparing  to 
resume  his  footboard  tricks  when  the  train  is 
again  under  way.  But  though  the  descent  is 
as  unexpected  as  the  same  performances  in  Ameri- 
can trains,  yet  there  is  an  entire  absence  of  that 
aggressive,  domineering  attitude  which  in  some  of 
the  United  States  railway  officials  is  so  offiinsive. 
The  Galician  ticket-examiner  doubtless  believes 
that,  being  a  caballero,  he  is  quite  as  good  as  you 
are,  just  as  the  American  official  does — except 
when  he  wishes  you  to  know  that  he  is  better — 
but  he  has  a  gentler  way  of  showing  it  than  his 
compeer  on  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic. 

In  departing  from  a  railway  station,  too,  at 
night,  you  may  be  startled  by  the  sudden  opening 
of  the  door  of  the  hotel  bus,  and  the  bursting  in 
upon  you  of  a  man  with  a  lantern.  He  is  merely 
an  octroi  official,  and  his  purpose  is  to  see  that 
you  have  not  hidden  upon  or  about  you  such 
dutiable  goods  as  fowls  and  other  eatables.  The 
octroi  man  may  be  seen  in  all  parts  of  Galicia, 
his  headquarters  usually  being  some  strange  little 
abode  on  the  roadside,  roughly  built  of  stones. 

Probably  no  men  in  Galicia  feel  more  acutely  the 
slowness  and  inconvenience  of  the  locomotion  of  the 
country    than    the  commercial    travellers,    most    of 


^  » 


whose  time  is  spent  in  getting  from  place  to  place, 
and  not  in  the  actual  transaction  of  business.  That 
remark  applies,  of  course,  to  the  commercials  of 
England  and  the  enterprising  "  drummers ""  of 
America  ;  but  the  business  representative  in  Galicia 
has  to  endure  many  hardships  to  which  his  foreign 
brethren  are  strangers. 

Late  one  night  I  entered  an  hotel  in  the  company 
of  some  travellers,  and  watched  them  as  they  took 
their  final  meal.  They  were  preparing  to  make  a 
night  of  it,  and  on  asking  the  reason  for  the  dissi- 
pation I  was  told  that  one  of  the  commercials  had 
to  leave  by  a  train  which  started  at  2.45  a.m.,  that 
he  had  resolved  to  sit  up  for  it,  and  that  his 
comrades,  in  a  spirit  of  compassion  and  conviviality, 
had  agreed  to  keep  him  company  until  he  left  the 
hotel.  One  or  two  of  them  had  to  start  at  six 
o'clock — and  these  were  quite  usual  hours  for  men 
on  the  road. 

Time  after  time  I  met  the  same  commercials  in 
trains,  diligences,  motor-buses,  and  hotels,  and  on 
each  occasion  noticed  that  they  had  long  ago 
acquired  the  art  of  making  themselves  comfortable 
in  adverse  circumstances,  and  had  cultivated  a  fine 
disregard  of  the  feelings  of  others.  There  is  some- 
thing in  locomotion  in  North- West  Spain  which 
seems  to  bring  out  the  worst  qualities  in  travellers, 
and  I  found  nothing  more  disagreeable  and  exas- 
perating than  to  be  wedged  into  a  sort  of  diligence 
for  conveyance  to  and  from  stations.  In  the  dark- 
ness of  an    early  morning   I  was   packed    in    the 


138 


A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 


corner  of  an  aged  conveyance  and  jostled  over  the 
lumpy  road  without  so  much  as  a  chance  of  escape, 
for  the  very  doorway  and  outside  platform  were 
crammed  with  fellow-creatures,  and  the  interior  was 
packed  with  people  who  were  mostly  corpulent  and 
unattractive.  Once  or  twice  it  seemed  as  if  the  vehicle 
would  capsize,  and  it  was  a  disquieting  spectacle  to 
see  a  wall  of  feminine  flesh  bending  forward  as 
if  with  the  sinister  purpose  of  extinguishing  me. 
In  the  gloom  of  one  comer  was  a  stout  man,  wear- 
ing a  linen  uniform  and  smoking.  I  assumed  that 
he  was  a  workman,  perhaps  a  bill-poster,  until,  later, 
he  was  seated  opposite  to  me  in  a  first-class  com- 
partment, and  I  discovered  that  he  was  an  officer. 

It  may  be  that  you  have  your  cycle  with  you,  in 
which  case  you  may  pedal  in  peace,  but  unless  you 
know  the  region  well  you  must  keep  an  ever-watch- 
ful eye  ahead,  for  many  of  the  roads  zigzag  dan- 
gerously along  the  mountain  sides,  and  an  uncon- 
trolled machine  would  bring  about  a  swift  disaster. 
Brakes  both  good  and  strong,  and  at  least  two  of 
them,  are  necessary  for  the  cyclist's  safety  and  his 
peace  of  mind  in  Galicia.  That  precaution  would 
apply  especially  to  the  ordinary  visitor,  man  or 
woman.  There  are  those  in  the  cycling  world  who, 
even  in  risky  and  unknown  neighbourhoods,  neglect 
precautions  and  scoff  at  danger.  In  many  parts  of 
Galicia  the  scoffing  may  be  followed  by  a  catas- 
trophe the  victim  of  which  would  scoff  no  more. 

I  saw  only  two  or  three  cycles  in  Galicia,  and 
one   of  these  was   a  freak   made  of    wood.       The 


LOCOMOTION 


139 


wheels  were   solid  discs,  after  the   fashion   of  the 
wheels  of  a  bullock-cart,  and  the  whole  of  the  frame 
and  fittings  seemed  to   be   of  the  same  material, 
unpainted,    as    if   the    masterpiece  had   been  just 
fini^ed  and  was  undergoing  its  trials.     The  work 
was  excellently  done,  and  was  a  high  tribute  to  the 
patience  and  ingenuity  of  the  producer,  who  had 
clearly    taken    as    his    model    an    ordinary   safety. 
The  machine  was  being  ridden  by  a  peasant  lad  in 
a  country  village.     When  I  first  saw  him  he  was 
ahead,  coasting  slowly  down  the  steep  road;   but 
he   observed    the    motor-car   approach,  and  by  the 
time  I  passed  him  he  had  dismounted  and  dragged 
his  cherished  possession  up  the  hedge  side  out  of 
harm's  way.     As   to   cycling   generally  in   Galicia, 
it  is   quite    feasible,  ^or    many    of   the    roads    are 
suitable,     but    in     most    places    the    steep,    rough 
thoroughfares  make  the   comfortable   use   of   one's 
machine  impracticable. 


THE    HILLS    OF   MONDARIZ 


CHAP.  VII 
MONDARIZ 


VI 


^  4 


N 

< 

Q 

o 


CHAPTER  VII 

MONDARIZ 

There  is  one  health  and  pleasure  resort  in  Gahcia 
which  is  in  the  nature  of  an  earthly  paradise,  and 
that  is  Mondariz.  The  district  has  been  long 
famed  for  its  beauty,  charm,  and  grandeur,  and 
those  curative  waters  on  the  success  of  which  a 
colossal  and  palatial  hydropathic  institution  is  con- 
ducted by  Messrs.  Ramon  and  Enrique  Peinador. 
This  hotel  claims  to  be  the  finest  and  best  in  the 
Peninsula;  it  is  certainly  the  most  remarkable  in 
many  ways,  and  might  almost  be  compared  with  a 
Mauretania  on  land,  it  is  so  complete  and  self- 
contained. 

In  wandering  through  Galicia  it  is  impossible  not 
to  be  struck  by  the  number  of  medicinal  facilities 
that  the  country  offers  in  the  form  of  natural 
springs,  and  the  careful  attention  which  has  been 
given  to  their  development.  Great  labour  has  been 
spent,  as  well  as  money,  in  connection  with  some 
of  these  watering  places,  and  only  by  the  applica- 
tion of  a  large  capital,  incessant  perseverance,  and  a 
far-seeing  sagacity  could  the  Mondariz  hydropathic 

143 


EO^ai 


144 


A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 


MONDARIZ 


145 


establishment  be  what  Messrs.  Peinador  have  made 
it.  Mondariz  is  not  only  a  resort  for  those  who 
take  medicinal  waters  in  the  ordinary  way,  but  it 
is  also  a  great  pleasure  centre  of  Spain.  In  the 
season  Mondariz  is  the  most  brilliant  place  in 
Galicia,  and  its  pleasures  are  shared  by  visitors 
from  all  parts  of  Spain  and  abroad.  The  attrac- 
tions of  the  institution  and  the  district  are  rapidly 
becoming  known  to  English  travellers. 

The  waters  of  Mondariz  (Gandara  and  Troncoso, 
as  the  springs  are  called)  contain  bicarbonate  of 
soda,  and  abundant  medical  evidence  is  available  as 
to  their  therapeutic  value.  Professor  Augusto  pi  y 
Sufier,  of  Seville  University,  in  an  exhaustive  report 
gives  some  striking  facts  concerning  their  tonic  and 
curative  effect  in  many  forms  of  illness.  So  that 
visitors  may  take  full  advantage  of  the  waters 
Messrs.  Peinador  have  constructed  baths  of  every 
description,  and  of  beautiful  design  and  admirable 
workmanship.  lAvishness  of  expenditure,  indeed, 
is  one  of  the  characteristics  of  the  Mondariz 
Hydro,  and  only  by  the  adoption  of  such  a  bold 
policy  could  the  present  great  results  have  been 
attained. 

A  handful  of  people  a  few  years  ago  journeyed 
to  the  vale  in  which  Mondariz  nestles,  to  take  the 
waters,  and  they  found  accommodation  in  little 
chalets  on  the  green  slopes  which  abound  in  the 
locality.  The  results  were  so  remarkable  that  the 
chalets  could  no  longer  house  the  visitors,  and 
finally  the  existing  hotel  was  opened  in  1897. 


Six  hundred  people  can  be  accommodated  at  the 
hydro,  yet  in  the  season  the  vast  establishment  is 
taxed  to  its  utmost  capacity  to  provide  for  the 
visitors.  The  grace  and  beauty  of  the  building  are 
noticeable  as  soon  as  the  main  hall  is  entered  and 
the  grand  staircase  is  seen.  This  gives  access  to 
rooms  some  of  which,  especially  the  chief  private 
suites,  are  regal  in  their  appointments.  Mondariz 
can  give  accommodation  to  a  king  as  well  as  to  an 
ordinary  tourist.  The  principal  dining-room  is  of 
enormous  size,  and  there  is  a  very  large  and  hand- 
somely decorated  salrni  in  which  dances  and  theatrical 
performances  and  concerts  take  place.  The  kitchen 
arrangements  are  of  the  most  perfect  modern  type, 
and  possess  the  feature,  somewhat  unusual  in  hotels, 
of  being  open  at  all  times  to  public  inspection. 

But  it  is  not  merely  in  the  hotel  as  a  building 
and  establishment  that  interest  centres  at  Mondariz  ; 
it  is  in  the  completeness  of  the  undertaking.  The 
industry  of  bottling  the  water  is  conducted  in  its 
entirety.  The  neighbouring  woods  supply  the 
timber  needed  for  the  packing-cases,  which  are  all 
made  on  the  estate;  and  so  great  is  the  demand 
at  home  and  abroad  for  the  waters  that  in  the 
course  of  twenty-four  hours  10,000  bottles  are  pre- 
pared. The  men  and  women  who  bottle  and  pack 
work  day  and  night  in  alternate  shifts. 

The  hotel  has  its  own  fancy  shops  in  the  season, 
for  enterprising  houses  in  Madrid  send  business 
representatives  to  supply  the  wants  of  visitors, 
delightful  stalls  and  kiosks  being  arranged,  bazaar- 


W 


146 


A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 


like,  in  the  grounds.  Special  vineyards,  wine- 
making  premises,  farms,  kitchen  and  fruit  and 
flower  gardens,  as  well  as  sheds  and  sties  for 
cattle  and  pigs,  and  great  pens  for  poultry,  are 
amongst  the  other  resources  of  Mondariz.  The 
estate  also  possesses  its  own  printing  establishment, 
from  which  a  newspaper  is  issued  specially  dealing 
with  the  doings  of  the  institution  and  its  guests. 
Fishing  and  shooting,  driving,  riding,  walking,  and 
rowing — all  these  may  be  enjoyed  on  the  hotel 
estate,  through  which  the  trout-teeming  Tea  flows. 
The  walks  in  the  pine-clad  hills  and  along  the 
bridle-paths  and  little  lanes  of  Mondariz  are  full  of 
charm  and  delight.  A  perfect  holiday  may,  indeed, 
be  spent  without  leaving  the  estate,  on  which,  to 
give    an     atmosphere    of    completion,    there    is    a 

chapel. 

From  the  verandah  in  front  of  the  hotel,  or  the 
balcony  on  to  which  the  window  of  your  bedroom 
leads,  or  from  your  garden-chair  under  the  palm- 
trees  you  may  watch  the  women  of  Galicia  ride  past 
on  mules  or  donkeys  or  walk  to  and  fro  with  their 
burdens,  so  that  the  very  life  of  the  people  seems 
to  be  brought  to  your  notice  without  any  exertion 
on  your  part.  On  the  extensive  estate  long  and 
enjoyable  walks  may  be  taken,  and  inspection 
made  of  numerous  historical  remains  which  Messrs. 
Peinador  have  brought  together  from  various  parts 
of  Galicia.  A  museum  is  in  course  of  formation 
in  which  many  articles  are  already  to  be  seen 
bearing  on  Gallegan  life  and  costume.      By  means 


MONDARIZ 


147 


',  t 


of  the  hotel  motors  very  delightful  excursions  may 
be  undertaken  to  neighbouring  towns  and  villages. 
A  regular  service  is  maintained  between  Mondariz 
and  Vigo  for  the  convenience  of  tourists  by  the 
Booth  Line. 

A  pump-room  is  being  built  at  Mondariz  from 
designs  prepared  by  the  foremost  of  Spain's  archi- 
tects, and  when  it  is  finished  the  building,  judging 
from  the  plans,  will  be  amongst  the  finest  in 
existence.  It  will  be  a  beautiful  ornament  to  the 
grounds  and  form  the  rendezvous  for  the  water- 
drinkers,  just  as  the  old  pump-rooms  at  Bath, 
Harrogate,  Scarborough,  and  Buxton  were  the 
central  meeting-places  for  visitors.  The  pump-room 
will  be  equipped  with  every  modern  appliance  and 
luxury,  and  yet  within  a  stone's- throw  there  are 
primitive  cottages  inhabited  by  something  approxi- 
mating primitive  man.  That  is  another  of  Galicia's 
sharp  contrasts. 

One  of  the  chief  features  of  the  new  building 
will  be  the  fine  granite  columns.  These  are  made 
entirely  on  the  premises  and  are  produced  from  the 
estate.  The  huge  granite  blocks  are  quarried  in 
the  neighbouring  hills;  bullocks  draw  them  down 
to  the  hotel  grounds,  where  hotel  workmen  rough 
them  out,  and  turn  them  in  the  lathe  and  finish  and 
pohsh  theni.  Other  employes  will  put  them  in 
position  and  complete  the  building,  the  estimated 
time  for  constructing  which  is  two  years. 

There  are  larger  and  more  imposing  hotels  in 
the  world  than   the  hydro   at   Mondariz;    1   have 


148  A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 

seen  them  in  London,  Paris,  New  York,  Chicago, 
and  elsewhere;  but  not  even  in  America  have  I 
visited  an  establishment  which  can  lay  claim  to  that 
completeness  of  resource  which  characterises  the 
concern  of  Messrs.  Peinador.  Galicia  from  north 
to  south  and  east  to  west  is  fascinating,  but  there 
is  no  place  in  the  country  which  leaves  more 
abidingly  pleasant  memories  than  Mondariz. 

The'  balanced  stone   of  Arcos  is  within  an  easy 
drive  of  Mondariz.      This  gigantic  boulder  is  poised 
on  the  top  of  another  enormous  rock  in  such  a  way 
that  it  seems  as  if  a  touch  or  a  strong  wind  would 
send  the  mass  headlong  into  the  rough  road  below. 
But  the  stone  has  been  in  that  position  for  ages,  and 
is  one  of  Nature^s  mysteries.     The  journey  to  this 
wonderful  logan  affords  a  view  of  some  of  the  wildest 
and    grandest   scenery    in    the     neighbourhood     of 
Mondariz.      Much  nearer  the  hydro,  and  making  a 
very    charming   walk,    is  the  little  village   of   San 
Pedro,  which    forms  one  of  the   pleasantest    sights 
that  the  pedestrian  can  witness.      Here  and  there, 
on    the  banks  of  rushing  streams,   are    stone-built 
mills,  primitive  and  tiny,  where  native  millers  carry 
out  their  grinding  operations  with  the  water-wheel. 

Galicia  may  be  visited  and  something  seen  of 
the  people  and  country  without  going  beyond  the 
confines  of  the  hotel,  for  the  estate  is  large  and 
wonderfully  comprehensive.  It  possesses  its  own 
hills  and  dales,  where  you  may  get  good  sport,  even 
its  own  river,  the  Tea,  on  which  you  may  boat  and 
fish.      You    may    see    the   process   of  wine-making. 


MONDARIZ 


149 


from  the  growth  of  the  grape  to  the  botthng  of  the 
juice,  and    the  evolution  of  the  chicken  from  the 
egg    to    the   poulet    roti   or    other    form    of   table 
delicacy.      Fruits  and  vegetables  in  more  shapes  and 
forms  than  I  can   either  remember   or    understand 
are  produced  on  the  estate,  and  in  due  season  take 
their    places   on   the    well-appointed    tables.     Nay, 
even     Galician     peasant    life     is    represented,    and 
without    much    trouble    you    may  enter  a  cottage 
and  see  what  the  life  of  the  people  really  is.     True, 
the  homes  are  better  than  the  sordid  hovels  which 
are  common  to  Galicia,  but  the  lives  of  the  people 
are  practically  the  same.      I  went  into  one  house, 
and  from  the  dark,  primitive  kitchen  walked  into 
a    sleeping-room    with    an    embrasure-like    window 
which  framed  one  of  the  most  perfect  landscapes  I 
ever  saw — a  picture  the  like  of  which  few  people 
in  England  below  noble  rank  can  command  from 
their  own  possessions. 

The  ruined  castle  of  Sobroso,  which  is  within 
pleasant  walking  and  driving  distance  of  Mondariz, 
offers  an  exceptionally  fine  view  of  Galician  land- 
scape. The  country  is  a  wealth  of  fascinating 
colour.  Hills  rise  up  on  every  side — pine-clad  and 
lonely ;  some,  if  the  day  is  doubtful,  suffused  in 
sunshine,  some  a  deep  blue — so  deep  that  the 
details  of  the  hills  are  lost  and  the  mountain  ranges 
are  smoky,  mist-topped  masses.  The  sun  shines 
and  the  warm  rain  drops  softly.  Peaceful  little 
farms  nestle  in  the  valleys,  with  the  vineyards 
terracing  the  slopes  ;  bullocks,  resting    from   their 


150  A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 

labours,  are  browsing  ;  goats  are  nibbling  on  the 
green  slopes  ;  women  are  in  the  maize-fields,  and 
men  are  digging,  trimming,  turning,  to  make  the 
bounteous  earth  yield  its  supplies.  It  is  a  scene  of 
perfect  peace  and  beauty,  and  the  only  sounds  that 
break  the  soothing  silence  are  the  laughing  voices  of 
the  women  who  are  working  in  the  fields,  and  that 
strange  creaking  of  the  bullock-carts  which  is  not 
heard  in  any  other  part  of  Spain. 

A  long  mile  from  the  wooded  base  of  Sobroso  I 
had  watched  a  train  of  bullock-carts  crawl  up  the 
white  high  road — a  train   of  seven,  timber-laden, 
making  an  extraordinary  noise  as  they  approached. 
Amongst    the    drivers    was    an    old   woman,    bare- 
footed, who,  as  she  trudged  alongside  her  patient  pair 
of  oxen,  wove  wool  with  a  distaff  which  she  carried 
in  her  hands.      Later,  from  Sobroso  itself,  I  listened 
to     the     distant     noises    of   the    bullock-train— a 
musical    creaking,   groaning,   and   rasping— with  a 
sudden  silence  when    the  cattle   were    brought   up 
to  rest.       Sometimes    the   creaking  would    be  like 
church  bells,   at  other  times   the  sound  resembled 
the   whistle  of  a  locomotive.      It  was  an  uncanny 
medley,  like,  and  yet  unlike,  both  bells  and  whistle, 
and   to   be  compared  only  with  itself,  for  there  is 
nothing  else  like  the  creaking  of  the  bullock-cart 
of   Galicia.     They    say    that    the     noise    is    made 
deliberately,  to  give  warning,  in  narrow,  dangerous 
roads    where    there    is    no    room    to    pass,   that  a 
bullock-cart   is  coming;  but  they  do  not  explain 
how  a  driver,  dulled  and  deafened  by  the  uproar  of 


A  PEASANT'S  FUNEKAL  IX  THE  HILLS 


A  PEASANT  W03IAN,  WITH  HEK  DISTAFF 
DRIVING   A   Bl'LLOC  K-CART 


f 


V. 


MONDARIZ 


151 


his  own   conveyance,   hears   the   noises    of   a   rival 
vehicle. 

Down  in  the  foreground  is  a  white,  peaceful 
church,  near  it  a  tall,  slender  pillar  of  stone,  sur- 
mounted by  an  effigy  of  the  crucified  Redeemer  on 
the  one  side,  and  on  the  other  a  figure  of  the 
Virgin  and  Child ;  on  the  tops  of  neighbouring 
walls  are  crosses,  emblems  of  that  faith  which  all 
Galicians  have  adopted,  for  here,  as  elsewhere  in 
Spain,  there  is  one  religion  only,  and  it  is  that 
of  the  Holy  Mother  Church.  The  whole  scene  is 
wonderful  and  impressive,  and  the  country  has  the 
great  merit  of  being  almost  untravelled  by  and 
unknown  to  ordinary  tourists. 

From  Sobroso''s  solitude  you  walk  back  to  the 
high  road  where  your  motor-car  or  Spanish  cab 
awaits  you  and  resume  your  journey,  or,  being 
untroubled  by  thoughts  of  time  or  vehicles,  walk 
onward  in  the  strangely  fascinating  twilight  of 
Galicia.  You  pass  the  peasant  women,  and  they 
smile  and  murmur  "  Adios,''  and  instinctively  you 
raise  your  hat  in  recognition  of  the  salutation. 

All  roads  near  Mondariz  lead  to  the  hydro, 
and  an  hour  or  two  after  you  have  descended 
from  the  ruins  of  Sobroso  you  are  in  the  great 
dining-hall  of  the  hotel  or  in  its  brilliant  salouy  or 
are  smoking  in  the  verandah  outside,  in  the  pine- 
scented  air,  with  semi-tropical  vegetation  around 
you.  It  is  no  exaggeration  to  speak  of  this  great 
qndertaking  as  Mondariz  the  marvellous, 


i 


I 


( 


.?  J-i?^w 


GATHERING   FIREWOOD   IN   THE   PINE   HILLS 


\\ 


CHAP.   VIII 

GALICIA'S 

BURDEN- 

\    BEARERS 


I 


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CHAPTER  VIII 
GALICIA'S  BURDEN-BEARERS 

On  the  road  which  runs  from  Vigo  to  Mondariz 
I  saw  a  woman  walking  with  some  great  burden 
on  her  head.  She  advanced  quickly,  with  straight 
and  supple  gait,  but  not  till  she  was  very  near 
did  I  notice  what  she  carried.  It  was  a  full-sized 
coffin,  but  so  perfectly  poised  that  the  bearer  did 
not  seem  to  feel  its  weight.  She  went  past, 
silent,  heavy-eyed,  and  looking  straight  ahead, 
her  bare  feet  making  no  sound  on  the  gravel  of 
the  pavement. 

That  was  one  of  the  first  of  Galicia's  burden- 
bearers  I  saw,  but  the  very  first  was  when  I  landed 
at  Vigo  and  observed  a  woman  on  the  Alameda 
carrying  an  assortment  of  bedding  on  her  head, 
a  mass  which  almost  smothered  her.  A  man, 
apparently  her  husband,  stalked  in  front,  leading 
the  way,  like  a  Red  Indian  before  his  squaw, 
and  bearing  his  share,  according  to  Galician  ethics, 
of  the  family  possessions,  for  under  his  left  arm 
was   tucked  a   pillow    and    in    his    right  hand   he 

carried  an  umbrella. 

155 


h^  L 


156 


A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 


From  the  day  when  they  can  support  any 
burden  at  all  the  females  of  Galicia  are  taught 
that  to  them  is  given  the  conveyance  of  any  article, 
however  big  and  clumsy,  which  is  not  too  big  for 
a  human  being  to  grapple  with.  Nothing  more 
astonishing  can  be  seen  in  Galicia  than  the  size 
and  weight  of  some  of  the  loads  which  the  women 
carry  on  their  heads,  and  frequently  a  woman 
hurries  along  under  a  burden  which  a  Billingsgate 
or  Covent  Garden  porter  would  refuse  to  have 
planted  on  his  crown. 

Galician  women  have  a  passion  for  consigning 
burdens  to  their  heads.  Size,  shape,  and  weight 
are  immaterial.  The  burden  may  be  a  bedstead, 
a  coffin,  a  load  of  firewood  or  seaweed,  an  enormous 
trunk  packed  with  baggage,  a  bucket  of  water,  a 
huge  basket  of  fish  or  vegetables,  or  some  grotesque 
article  which  could  be  easily  carried  in  the  hand. 
Big  or  little,  the  method  of  conveyance  is  the  same, 
a  small  protecting  pad  being  put  between  the 
top  of  the  head  and  the  burden.  A  common, 
almost  universal,  way  of  preparing  the  pad  is  to 
take  a  handkerchief,  usually  a  white  one,  from  the 
pocket,  roll  it  into  a  ring,  and  then  put  it  on  the 
crown  of  the  head.  The  material  prevents  the 
hard  basket,  bucket,  box,  or  other  burden  from 
being  unduly  felt,  though  many  Galician  women 
have  bald  spaces  due  to  the  wearing  away  of  the  hair 
by  the  circular  pads.  If  the  weight  is  not  too  heavy 
a  woman  will  hoist  it  up  herself,  but  the  custom  is 
tp  have  the  load  lifted  up  and  put  in  place. 


GALICIA^S  BURDEN-BEARERS        157 

There  is  a  spirit  of  camaraderie  in  the  burden- 
bearing,  and  frequently  a  woman  who  is  hurrying 
along  the  street,  flying  light,  will  stop  to  hoist  up  a 
burden  on  to  a  fellow-creature's  head.  Small  girls 
scurry  along  the  pavement  or  roadway  bearing 
weights  that  are  out  of  all  proportion  to  their 
strength  and  years,  and  to  this  early  toil  may 
be  attributed  the  spoiling  of  Galician  figures. 
The  heavy  weights  and  strain  of  carrying  them 
cause  the  women  to  walk  with  a  curious  twisting 
movement  of  the  hips,  and  to  over-develop  that 
part  of  the  body ;  but  as  a  rule  the  carriage  of 
the  Galician  peasant  woman  is  perfect,  and  many 
have  remarkably  fine  figures.  Some  of  the  women 
appear  to  be  enormously  strong,  and  the  great 
majority  look  healthy  and  happy.  Even  when 
near  confinement  they  will  continue  their  burden- 
bearing,  and  I  was  told  that  often  a  child  will 
be  born  to  a  woman  who  has  gone  straight  from 
her  work,  and  that  in  an  incredibly  short  time 
she  will  be  at  her  task  again.  In  this  respect 
the  Galician  peasant  seems  to  be  fit  sister  to  the 
Red  Indian  women,  of  whom  it  was  said  that 
they  would  fall  out  of  the  line  of  march,  and 
having  given  birth  to  a  son  or  daughter  on  the 
prairie,  pick  the  infant  up  and  overtake  their 
companions. 

Women  in  Galicia  work  in  the  houses,  the  fields, 

:he  road,  on  the  water.  You  may 
bullock -carts,  an 


luarries, 


iving 


pigs 


I  observed  a  tiny  girl  who  could  not  be  more  than 


\  « 


158 


A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 


\ » 


three  years  old  piloting  an  enormous  and  fractious 
sow,  weeping  copiously  as  she  did  so  because  the 
stubborn    pig    refused    to    answer   steering   signals, 
which  were  smart  thuds   on  her  fat  sides ;  women 
were  helping  men  to  pull  a  boat-load    of  seaweed 
up  Vigo  Bay  ;  three  women  and  one  man  outside 
Pontevedra   were   road-making  with   pickaxes  ;  not 
far    away    from     them     other    women    were    filling 
corves  with  coal,  plying  their  shovels  like  navvies, 
and   women    were    unloading    a    stone-laden   sloop, 
tripping  up  a  springy  gangway  with   their  stone- 
filled  baskets   on    their  heads,  and  hurrying  down 
another   plank    for    further    loads.      I   saw   women 
stripping  the  husks  from  maize,  quarrying  granite 
in    the  hills,    working  on  hats  and  dresses,  teach- 
ing in  Httle  wayside    schools,  tending  the  sick  in 
hospital,  and  doing  a  hundred  and  one  odd  things 
many  of  which  are  carried  out  by  women  in  Great 
Britain,  but  most  of  which  fall  only  to  the  lot  of 

men. 

On  inquiring  into  the  rate  of  wages  paid  to 
women  I  was  told  that  a  female  labourer  gets 
sevenpence  daily  for  her  work,  which  lasts  from 
sunrise  to  sunset,  and  she  is  as  a  rule  supplied 
with  wine  and  maize-bread,  although  in  some 
places  the  bread  has  to  be  bought.  In  cold 
weather  the  women  are  given  a  little  brandy. 
The  wages  seem  small  enough,  but  the  cost  of 
living  is  in  proportion  to  the  income.  A  little 
cottage  may  be  had.  for  a  shilling  a  week,  and 
although  the  dwelling  is  far  from  being  a  desirable 


r  ji     Ml    liMf  ■    n« 


1 


A  MAID  OF  (  AXGAS 


GALICIA'S  BURDEN-BEARERS        159 

human  habitation  from  the  English  standpoint, 
still  it  is  not  worse  in  some  respects  than  many  of 
the  appalling  dens  in  which  British  labourers  live. 

Women  appeared  on  the  railway  side  at  every 
level  crossing  when  a  train  was  passing,  and,  armed 
with  a  staff  as  badge  of  office,  held  up  the  traffic, 
vehicular  and  pedestrian.  As  a  rule  there  was 
neither,  but  the  conscientious  female  went  through 
the  solemn  ceremony  of  standing  sentry  over  the 
gate  or  chain  which  separated  the  single  track 
from  the  highway  until  the  train  had  passed,  and 
then  lowering  the  sign  of  authority  and  opening 
the  gate  or  releasing  the  chain  to  indicate  that 
carts  and  human  beings  were  at  liberty  to  cross 
the  metals.  Often  enough  this  motherly  protec- 
tion was  witnessed  only  by  a  dilapidated  Spanish 
infant,  who  had  nothing  better  to  do  than  stroll 
down  to  the  railway  and  watch  the  train  go 
past. 

These  remarkable  children  are  everywhere,  and 
some  of  them  are  very  pretty,  and  as  shy  as  they 
are  attractive.  At  the  old  bridge  of  Ramallosa  I 
wished  to  take  a'  photograph  of  a  little  Spanish 
maid  who  was  hurrying  towards  me  over  the  arches, 
but  her  coyness  was  unconquerable,  and  in  spite  of 
all  allurements  she  refused  to  be  a  party  to  the 
picture,  and  at  last  turned  and  fled  precipitately. 
At  Cangas,  on  the  north  side  of  Vigo  Bay,  I 
craftily  secured  a  shot  at  a  beautiful  maid  who 
was  hugging  a  fat  and  placid  infant  on  the  shore. 
Being  only  a  few  feet  away,  I  feigned  deep  interest 


*n 


160 


A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 


I 

- 1 

1 


U 


in  a  neighbouring  sardine-boat,  then,  unexpectedly 
confronting  the  little  nurse,  so  that  she  should  not 
have  time  to  pose,  I  secured  her  for  the  film.  It  was 
not  until  I  strolled  away  that  the  subtlety  of  the 
performance  struck  her ;  then,  for  some  reason  best 
known  to  herself,  she  burst  into  screams  of  laughter. 
One  of  the  charms  of  snapshots  in  Galicia  is  that 
the  subjects  are  quite  unconscious.  They  do  not 
pose,  because  they  do  not  understand. 

Some  of  the  Galician  peasant  women  have  a 
strange  way  of  dressing  their  hair.  This  consists 
of  plaiting  a  length  of  material  of  exactly  the 
same  colour  as  the  hair  into  the  pig-tail  or  tails 
to  give  the  finished  article  a  more  generous  and 
impressive  appearance.  At  first  sight  the  custom 
strikes  one  as  tending  to  vanity ;  yet  it  is  as 
nothing,  if  men  are  to  believe  all  they  read,  com- 
pared with  one's  own  countrywomen's  practice  of 
enriching  their  own  locks  by  adding  to  them,  not 
a  piece  of  stuff  or  ribbon,  but  other  people's  shorn 

tresses. 

Women  do  most  things — nearly,  it  seems,  all 
things — in  this  comer  of  Spain,  but  in  no  respect 
are  they  more  in  evidence  than  in  connection  with 
washing.  Laundry  work  in  England  is  synonymous 
with  everything  that  is  hard  and  sordid,  but  in 
Galicia  it  reaches  something  approaching  a  fine 
art.  Washing  seems  to  be  the  national  recrea- 
tion of  Galicia.  All  day  long  and  every  day  the 
womenfolk  are  on  the  banks  of  streams  and  rivers, 
standing,  bending,   or   kneeling   at   their   work,  or 


GALICIA'S  BURDEN-BEARERS        161 

in  public  washhouses,  such  as  Corunna  possesses, 
just  below  the  place  where  Sir  John  Moore  is 
buried,  or  in  some  open  ground  in  towns.  At 
Ferrol  there  is  a  huge  trough  around  which  the 
women  stand  to  their  work.  This  is  in  the  open 
air.  Vigo  has  a  covered  building  near  the  bay  for 
laundry  operations,  but  by  far  the  greater  part  of 
the  work  is  done  in  sunshine,  near  the  running  water 
by  the  side  of  glorious  fields  or  at  the  edges  of 
green  woods,  and  though  the  task  may  be  laborious 
the  conditions  of  the  toil  are  perfect. 

There  is  incessant  talk  and  laughter — one  of  the 
brightest  and  most  hilarious  groups  of  women  that 
I  saw  in  Galicia  was  at  Ferrol,  round  the  public 
wash-tub.  There  were  a  score  or  so  of  them,  busy 
at  work,  but  not  too  busy  to  turn  and  laugh  at  the 
stranger ;  merry,  but  not  so  merry  that  they  could 
not  find  energy  to  break  into  joyful  screams  at  some 
playful  jest  from  a  passer-by.  The  spectacle  was 
one  on  which  Samuel  Pepys  would  have  dwelt  with 
rapture,  and  the  joke  would  have  been  recorded 
with  minute  precision  in  his  diary.  There  are 
many  odd  things  in  Galicia  which  savour  of  the 
England  of  the  Restoration. 

The  washing  is  a  simple  task.  The  clothes  are 
taken  to  the  water's  edge,  mostly  in  flat  baskets, 
such  as  those  which  are  used  for  fish.  The  women 
kneel  over  the  running  water,  thoroughly  soaking 
and  soaping  the  garments,  which  are  then  placed 
on  stones  to  be  rubbed.  After  the  rubbing  there 
is  a  careful  rinsing   and   wringing.      The    articles 


M 


ft 


^^^^Mm^^ 


l_ 


1 


1 


162  A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 

are  then  spread  on  the  nearest  hedges  or  grass  or 
stones  to  dry.  A  mother  may  bring  her  baby 
with  her,  and  leave  the  little  creature  sitting  or 
sleeping  in  the  basket  near  her  ;  the  young  boys 
and  girls  will  give  a  hand  with  the  work ;  and  if 
it  is  after  dinner  an  old  woman  may  come  up 
with  her  tin  and  earthenware  utensils  and  wash 
them  in  the  running  water,  which  carries  all  im- 
purities towards  the  sea. 

There  is  in  most  of  us  that  faculty  for  enjoyment 
which   comes  from   watching,   at  our  ease,  fellow- 
creatures   toiling,  and  I   will  confess  to  the   keen 
satisfaction  I  felt  at  the  quaint  bridge  of  Marin,  a 
pleasant   little   run   from    Pontevedra,  as   I  leaned 
over  the  parapet  smoking  and  watching  the  washers 
in  the  stream  below.     The  sun  was  shining  hotly, 
the  sky  was   a  clear   blue,   the  little  white   houses 
dotted  the  yellow  sands,  and  the  brown  nets  hung  to 
dry  from  the  fishing-boats  and  fences.      The  women 
sang  at  their  labour,  and  the  children  sang  as  they 
frolicked  or  helped  their  elders.     It  seemed  like  a 
universal  washing-day.    Yet  even  washing  in  Galicia 
is  a  romantic  and   picturesque   performance,  com- 
pletely   free    from    the   steamy,    squalid    smells    of 
laundry  days  in  British  homes  and  institutions. 

At  Marin  I  leaned  over  the  bridge  and  gazed 
long  at  the  workers  by  the  stream,  then  turned 
towards  Pontevedra,  walking  up  the  road  in  the  hot 
sunshine.  Ahead  the  road  was  filled  with  people, 
moving  slowly,  and  in  their  midst  a  banner  and 
some  trappings  flashed  in  the  strong  bright  light. 


•'I 

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CAKKYIXC;  WATER 


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fWS^' 


A  WOMAX  THRESHING  BEANS 


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GALICIA^S  BURDEN-BEARERS        163 

and  there  came  the  strains  of  solemn  music  and  the 
wails  of  grief,  for  this  was  a  Galician  funeral.      The 
coffin  was  borne  shoulder-high,  with  several  priests 
near  it,  and  with  them  a  man,  like  a  peasant  in  his 
Sunday   clothes,  playing    a    bassoon,   on  which  he 
accompanied  some  of  the  responses   to   the  priests' 
prayers.      Women,  mostly  in  black,  of  the  poorest 
class,    with    shawls    on    their    heads,    followed    the 
coffin   closely.      There    were    but  few  men  present. 
A  halt  was  made  for  a  few  moments  to  rest  and 
change  the  bearers,  and  a  peasant  woman  hurried 
from  her  cottage  with  a  small  table  on  which  they 
could  rest  their  burden.      All  the  time  there  were 
the   prayers  and   the  responses,  mingled    with   the 
strangely  sweet  and  solemn   music  of  the  great  reed 
instrument,  until  the  procession  reached  a  spot  at 
which  a  branch  of  the  road  led  to  a  httle  church  on 
the  shore,  whose   bell    was    tolling    and    in    whose 
ground  the  burial  was  to   take  place.       It   was  a 
simple  ceremony,  shorn  of  pomp  and  circumstance, 
and  in  perfect  keeping  with  the  wondrous  peace  and 
beauty  of  the  sun-bathed  hills  and  water. 


»' 


1     i 


AR08A    BAY 


CHAPTER  IX 
AROSA  BAY 
AND  LA  TOJA 


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I— t 


CHAPTER  IX 

AROSA  BAY  AND  LA  TOJA 

British  warships  have  made  Arosa  Bay  their  head- 
quarters for  many  years,  and  have  found  the  land- 
locked stretch  of  sea  and  the  surroundinsr  hills  a 
glorious  and  delightful  region  for  sport  and  plea- 
sure. It  is  remarkable  that  the  three  great  bays 
on  the  coast  of  Galicia — Arosa,  Pontevedra,  and 
Vigo — have  their  entrances  protected  by  islands 
which  break  the  force  of  the  Atlantic  waves. 

The  Isle  of  Salvora  is  in  the  very  mouth  of 
Arosa  Bay,  with  small  islands  to  the  north  of  it  as 
satellites.  There  is  a  fine  stretch  of  bay  between 
Salvora  and  Arosa  Island,  which  is  in  the  middle  of 
the  bay  itself.  The  warships  anchor  between  Arosa 
and  the  mainland,  close  to  Villa  Garcia,  Carril,  and 
Cortegada. 

Villa    Garcia  is  renowned    for  its    bathing    and 

fishing,  and  on  its  shore  an  excellently  appointed 

and    large    bathing    establishment   has  been   built. 

The  town  is   the   headquarters  of   a  British  Vice- 

Consul,  whose  residence  is  one  of  the  most  striking 

features  of  the  place.      It  is  the  old  castle  of  the 

167 


*^PM 


168  A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 

Marquis  of  Villa  Garcia,  modernised,  and  abounding 
in  historical  and  antiquarian  associations. 

Roman  remains  have  been  discovered  in  recent 
years  on  the  estate  by  the  present  Vice-Consul,  who 
has  formed  a  very  interesting  private  collection, 
and  has  contributed  some  valuable  objects  to  the 
Archffiological  Museum  at  Santiago.  On  the  other 
side  of  the  road,  only  a  few  feet  from  the  Consulate, 
is  a  convent,  with  a  church  adjoining  in  which  the 
nuns  worship.  These  religious  prisoners  go  to  and 
from  the  church  by  way  of  a  private  passage,  and 
are  never  seen  in  public.  The  barred  windows  of 
their  cells  frown  on  the  Consulate  like  the  windows 

of  a  gaol. 

Pilgrims  in  bygone  years  took  this  road  to 
Santiago,  coming  from  Portugal ;  but  to-day  British 
officers  and  sailors  use  it  largely  when  they  are 
ashore  for  recreation.  Perhaps  from  behind  some 
rusting  bars  sweet,  pale-faced  nuns  may  watch 
them  as  they  drive  or  walk,  and  may  wonder  what 
sort  of  life  it  is  that  these  men  of  the  waters 
lead— the  fighters  to  whom  the  world  is  free  and 
open,  while  the  silent  watcher  never  gets  beyond 
the  convent's  narrow  boundary.  The  nun's  bed 
consists  of  rough  boards  which,  when  she  dies, 
are    turned  up   and  nailed   together    to  form   her 

coffin. 

A  pleasant  walk  from  Villa  Garcia  is  to  Carril, 
only  a  mile  away,  with  a  population  of  3000 
and  a  very  busy  harbour.  A  short  sail  is 
to  Cortegada,  the  beautiful  island  which  the  King 


\  i 


r 

AROSA  BAY  AND  LA  TOJA        169 

of  Spain  has  chosen  as  his  summer  residence.  Villa 
Garcia,  indeed,  is  a  centre  from  which  many  ex- 
cursions may  be  made,  either  for  sport  in  the  hills 
or  the  bay  and  rivers.  From  the  little  town  it  is 
an  easy  train  journey  to  Caldas  de  Reyes,  where, 
for  three  months  in  the  year,  July  to  September, 
visitors  take  the  warm  mineral  baths  at  the 
excellent  Hotel  Acuna,  delightfully  situated  at  the 
end  of  the  bridge  which  crosses  the  river  Umia. 
The  town  is  small,  but  very  quaint.  It  has  a 
public  hot  spring,  where  the  family  washing  may  be 
conducted  or  the  family  hot  water  obtained,  but 
the  laundry  work  is  done  mostly  on  the  river-side 
by  the  bridge.  You  may  lean  over  the  bridge  and 
see  in  the  limpid  water  the  fish  disport  themselves. 
The  scenery  in  the  locality  is  beautiful,  especially 
from  the  summits  of  the  surrounding  hills.  The 
waters  of  Caldas  have  neither  taste  nor  colour,  and 
have  a  wonderful  effect  upon  the  skin.  At  Cuntis, 
three  miles  from  Caldas,  in  the  hills,  are  warm 
baths  which  at  the  Grand  Hotel  attract  many 
thousands  of  visitors  yearly;  while  the  little 
town  is  picturesque  and  interesting,  especially  on 
Sundays,  when  the  peasant  women  crowd  the 
market-place,  buying  and  selling  and  congregating 
outside  the  business  places  which  serve  as  genera 
stores. 

Caldas  is  associated  in  my  mind  with  the  only 
drunken  man  I  saw  in  Galicia ;  also  with  a  peasant's 
funeral  in  the  hills,  and  a  charmingly  situated 
workhouse   on   the  banks  of  the  river.      I  do  not 


I 


-  >,-,-.■  ■  —  ■__i 


170 


A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 


suppose  that  in  Galicia  they  have  old  age 
pensions,  but  as  a  last  home  few  places  could 
rival  in  situation  this  white-walled  building  on 
the  grassy  slopes  of  Umia. 

The  romantic  and  the  practical  are  typified  just 
outside  Caldas,  where,  amid  impressive  rocky  scenery, 
the  Umia  thunders  in  a  fine  cascade.  It  is  fasci- 
nating to  sit  or  stand  on  the  rocks  and  watch  the 
waterfall  and  listen  to  its  roar ;  and  for  those  who 
do  not  greatly  appreciate  the  charms  of  nature 
there  is  at  the  side  of  the  falls  a  modern  structure 
with  a  thorough  electrical  equipment  which  is 
reminiscent  of  Niagara's  power-houses,  and  supplies 
light  for  many  miles  around. 

The  country  is  beautiful  and  varied,  and  from 
Cuntis  very  fine  views  are  obtainable,  although  in 
this  respect  the  neighbourhood  has  not  the  same 
attractions  as  some  of  the  hills  near  Vigo.  From 
the  hills  at  Cuntis  a  view  of  the  Portuguese 
mountains  is  obtainable ;  but  most  of  the  tourists 
to  Galicia  will  postpone  their  inspection  of  the 
Portuguese  landmarks  until  they  are  nearer  the 
frontier. 

Easily  reached  from  Villa  Garcia  is  El  Padron, 
a  town  of  10,000  inhabitants,  at  the  head  of  the 
bay,  and  full  of  historical  associations.  El  Padron 
(meaning  "  The  Saint '')  is  a  very  ancient  little  city — 
older,  indeed,  than  Santiago,  and  also  imperishably 
connected  with  St.  James,  for  it  was  here  that  his 
body  was  landed  on  being  brought  from  the  Holy 
Land,    and    El    Padron    formerly    shared    some    of 


AROSA  BAY  AND  LA  TOJA 


r 

171 


Santiago'*s  glory  as  a  city  for  pilgrims,  but  is 
no  longer  a  pilgrim  city,  nor,  as  it  used  to  be,  a 
sanctuary  for  criminals  flying  from  what  passed  for 
justice.  Borrow  visited  El  Padron,  and  found  it 
a  flourishing  little  town  with  an  extensive  com- 
merce, sending  small  vessels  not  only  across  the 
Bay  of  Biscay,  but  also  as  far  as  London  River. 
He  dwelt  with  satisfaction  on  a  story  which  he 
heard  in  Santiago  concerning  El  Padron  skippers 
and  the  Scriptures.  The  English  had  presented 
Bibles  to  the  skippers,  who  happened  to  be  in 
London,  and  on  their  return  to  Galicia  it  was 
observed  that  these  enterprising  mariners  had 
become  very  dogmatic  in  argument  concerning 
Holy  Writ.  Finally  the  cause  of  their  wisdom 
was  discovered,  and  the  Testaments  were  taken 
from  them  and  burnt,  and  the  disputants  were 
punished  and  reprimanded. 

St.  James  preached  at  El  Padron,  and  on  a  spot 
where  he  spoke  a  hermitage  was  built  to  which  pil- 
grims went  in  the  days  when  the  town  attracted 
them.  According  to  the  legend,  when  the  Apostle's 
body  reached  the  town  the  miraculous  boat  contain- 
ing it  found  anchorage  at  the  base  of  a  Roman 
statue,  an  event  which  is  commemorated  in  El 
Padron's  coat  of  arms. 

Though  there  is  not  much  in  El  Padron  to 
induce  the  visitor  to  stay  there,  yet  the  town's 
situation  and  romantic  history  make  it  an  attrac- 
tive excursion  centre.  Pontevedra,  however,  a 
few   miles  from   Villa  Garcia,    offers  many  induce- 


M 


1T« 


A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 


merits  to  the  stranger  to  linger.  The  arcaded 
streets  are  full  of  charm  and  history  and  many  of 
the  old  houses  are  admirably  preserved.  There  are 
about  20,000  inhabitants  in  Pontevedra,  and, 
like  all  other  Galicians,  they  get  into  the  open 
air  whenever  they  can  and  disport  themselves  on 
the  well- wooded  Alameda,  or,  in  the  season,  at  the 
bull-ring,  a  building  which  is  a  conspicuous  feature 
of  the  town.  There  is  good  hotel  and  cafe  ac- 
commodation, and  many  quaint  sights  are  to  be 
witnessed.  But  the  most  pronounced  memory  of 
Pontevedra  is  the  seremPs  haunting  night-chant, 
of  which  I  have  written  elsewhere. 

The  vessel  in  which  Columbus  crossed  the 
Atlantic  and  discovered  America  was  built  at 
Pontevedra.  She  was  named  the  Santa  Maria,  and 
was  decked.  The  Pinta  and  the  Nina,  her  little 
consorts,  were  open,  without  decks  amidships,  but 
with  high  bows  and  sterns,  where  cabins  were  built 
for  the  accommodation  of  the  crews.  Some  of  the 
ships  of  the  Armada  were  assembled  at  Pontevedra 
before  the  complete  fleet  sailed  for  England. 

On  the  Carril  road  stand  the  ruins  of  the 
Convent  of  San  Domingo.  The  building  has  been 
turned  into  an  open-air  archaeological  museum,  but 
enough  of  the  original  structure  remains  to  give 
a  good  idea  of  the  convent  in  the  days  of  its  glory. 
It  was  here  that,  rather  more  than  a  century  ago, 
a  desperate  battle  took  place  between  the  French 
troops  and  the  peasants.  The  convent  was  founded 
in  the  thirteenth  century,  and  the  ivy-clad  remains, 


AROSA  BAY  AND  LA  TOJA 


r 

173 


on  a  typical  sunny  day,  make  a  beautiful  object  to 
inspect. 

Pontevedra  has  its  modern  institutions,  like 
Viso,  but  the  arcaded  streets  and  the  ancient 
houses  are  the  great  charms.  The  Church  of  San 
Francisco  is  a  prominent  feature  of  the  town, 
occupying  a  commanding  position,  and  a  very 
pleasant  walk  across  the  bridge  to  the  other  side 
of  the  water  may  be  taken,  a  point  being  reached 
from  which  a  striking  view  is  obtained. 

The  country  around  Pontevedra  is  remarkably 
picturesque  and  fertile,  and  has  long  been  famous 
for  its  grapes  and  oranges  and  citrons.  In  Borrow's 
day  the  town  was  surrounded  by  a  wall  of  hewn 
stone,  of  which  parts  remain,  although  there  is 
nothing  left  of  the  turrets  which  formerly  stood  for 
purposes  of  defence  and  observation.  The  river 
Lerez  runs  into  Pontevedra  Bay,  and  a  few  miles 
outside  the  town,  forming  an  extensive  enclosure,  is 
an  estate,  with  the  Hotel  Mendez  Nunez,  where  the 
Lerez  waters  are  bottled  for  home  and  foreign  use. 
In  the  summer  time  marine  excin-sions  are  run  from 
Pontevedra  to  the  estate,  the  river  being  a  pleasant 
and  enjoyable  mode  of  traveL  At  that  season  the 
stream  is  low  and  placid,  but  in  time  of  storm  and 
heavy  rains  the  Lerez  swells  rapidly  and  becomes  a 
roaring  torrent.  The  Lerez  rises  in  the  Candan 
Sierra,  and  in  those  wild  and  lonely  hills  the  wolf 
still  roams,  although  he  is  seldom  seen. 

In  this  region,  as  well  as  on  other  parts  of  the 
coast,  the  Benediction  of  the  Sea  is  celebrated  on 


\  i 


174 


A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 


May  Day.  At  that  festival  the  parish  priests  bless 
the  waters  which  give  such  a  rich  harvest  of  fish, 
and  the  fishermen  and  fishwives  in  large  numbers 
share  in  the  religious  ceremony. 

There  is  one  attraction  of  outstanding  interest  to 
visitors  to  Arosa  Bay,  and  that  is  the  island  of  La 
Toja.  This  beautiful  little  place  stands  like  a  gem 
in  the  sheltered  nook  on  the  south  side  of  the  bay, 
and  from  the  mainland,  the  Grove  Peninsula,  only 
two  or  three  hundred  yards  distant,  it  presents  a 
scene  which  is  almost  fairy-like  in  its  enchantment. 
Most  of  the  island  is  covered  with  pine-trees,  and 
nearly  in  the  centre  is  a  walk,  from  shore  to  shore, 
through  pine  plantations,  whilst  a  boulevard  flanked 
by  pines  runs  almost  parallel  with  the  walk.  On 
every  side  there  is  the  entrancing  Galician  land- 
scape, and  that  placid  stretch  of  clear  blue  water 
which  is  one  of  the  British  Fleet's  most  famous 
foreign  anchorages. 

If  you  go  from  Villa  Garcia  by  the  steam -yacht 
belonging  to  the  hotel  of  La  Toja  there  is 
an  hour's  run  across  the  bay  between  the  main- 
land and  the  Isle  of  Arosa,  in  sheltered  waters — 
you  may,  if  you  choose,  take  your*  own  Spanish 
fishing-boat,  and  your  own  time — or  half  an  hour's 
ferry  from  the  old-world  village  of  Gambados,  with 
its  three-cornered  castle.  If  you  do  not  favour  sail 
or  steam  there  is  the  road  from  Villa  Garcia  to 
Gambados,  through  plane-lined  avenues  and  fascinat- 
ing scenery,  across  the  strikingly  impressive  long 
Bridge  of  the  Ferry  over  the  Umia.      Skirting  the 


r 

AROSA  BAY  AND  LA  TOJA         175 

shores  of  the  cove  in  which  La  Toja  nestles,  you 
reach  a  point  from  which  a  boat  can  row  in  a 
few  minutes  to  the  island,  and  from  which  it  will 
soon  be  possible  to  drive  or  walk  by  a  fine  bridge 
that  is  well  advanced  towards  completion. 

Between  the  pine- woods  and  the  sea  a  great  white 
building  rises,  looking  in  the  distance  something 
like  a  Moorish  palace.  This  is  the  Grand  Hotel, 
built  of  stone,  brick,  and  iron,  and  facing  the  sea 
and  a  delightful  frontage  which  has  been  called  the 
Grand  Avenue.  Already  the  structure  is  of  im- 
posing dimensions,  but  it  is  rapidly  being  enlarged, 
and  when  finished  will  contain  no  fewer  than  750 
bedrooms,  ranging  from  the  ordinary  comfortable 
sleeping  apartment  to  the  luxurious  room  which 
forms  one  of  a  suite,  with  private  bathing  accom- 
modation. 

Galicia  is  advancing  rapidly,  and  one  of  the 
most  notable  signs  of  the  country's  progress  is  the 
development  of  such  an  institution  as  the  Grand 
Hotel  at  La  Toja.  A  famous  Spanish  architect 
designed  the  buildings,  and  one  of  the  most  re- 
nowned artists  in  Spain  was  commissioned  to 
execute  some  mural  decorations  in  the  interior. 
Bizarre  and  unique  paintings  on  the  walls  are 
amongst  the  first  things  that  command  the  visitor's 
attention. 

It  is  strange,  in  such  a  quiet  and  sequestered 
spot,  to  enter  an  hotel  which  in  its  domestic 
appliances,  decorations,  bathing  and  sanitary  ar- 
rangements, and  situation   can   hold   its   own   with 


\  t 


176 


A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 


AROSA  BAY  AND  LA  TOJA 


r 

177 


any  kindred  institution  in  Europe — indeed,  an 
eminent  medical  authority  declared  recently  that 
the  island  and  its  hotel  are  unrivalled  even  on  the 
Riviera.  There  are  hot  and  cold  springs  at  La 
Toja,  the  supply  from  which  is  so  copious  that  a 
daily  output  of  mineral  waters  is  possible  of  nearly 
700,000  gallons.  From  the  mud  emanating 
from  the  hot  springs  and  the  salts  extracted  in 
vacuo  from  the  waters  a  very  efficacious  soap  is 
made,  and  this  is  one  of  La  Toja'*s  best-known 
products. 

Tourists  in  growing  numbers,  especially  from 
Spain  and  South  America,  visit  Is.  Toja  yearly 
during  the  season,  which  is  brilliant  and  wonder- 
fully recuperative,  for,  in  addition  to  the  beauty 
and  health-giving  qualities  of  the  island'^s  situa- 
tion, the  natural  mineral  waters,  muds,  and  salts 
have  established  themselves  in  the  medical  world 
as  remarkable  therapeutic  agents.  Sufferers  from 
even  the  most  acute  forms  of  skin  and  kindred 
diseases  have  benefited  so  miraculously  from  visits 
to  the  island  that  La  Toja  might  almost  seem  to  be, 
in  the  estimation  of  some  people,  a  second  Lourdes. 
So  thorough  and  complete  are  the  arrangements 
that  it  is  not  necessary  for  the  ordinary  tourist  to 
see  anything  of  the  curative  methods  which  are 
adopted,  and  many  visitors  make  prolonged  stays 
without  being  aware  of  the  existence  of  the  purely 
medicinal  aspect  of  La  Toja. 

Sportsmen  at'  La  Toja  find  in  the  wide  sweep  of 
hill    and   dale  and  sea  and  river  every   chance   of 


satisfying  gun  and  rod.  Plover,  snipe,  and  wild 
duck  are  amongst  the  bags,  and  trout  is  good  and 
plentiful.  Wild  boar  is  to  be  had  in  the  neigh- 
bouring sierras,  and  it  sometimes  figures  in  the 
menu  at  La  Toja.  I  crossed  from  Gambados  to 
the  island  in  a  little  Spanish  fishing-boat,  and  a 
revolver  shot,  fired  by  a  Galician  in  the  craft,  sent 
a  swarm  of  wild  birds  skyward  in  a  cloud. 

Not  the  least  of  La  Toja's  glories  are  the 
gorgeous  sunsets — pictures  so  wondrous  that  at 
least  one  traveller  returns  each  year  for  the  special 
purpose  of  enjoying  them.  There  are  fishing, 
shooting,  and  sailing  expeditions  in  abundance,  and 
while  some  members  of  a  party  of  visitors  may  be 
enjoying  these  outings  others  are  quietly  under- 
going a  cure  as  a  result  of  treatment  by  La  Toja 
products.  There  are  many  other  attractions  and 
amusements  on  the  island  for  visitors,  amongst 
them  being  tennis,  croquet,  and  other  English 
games  seldom  found  in  Spanish  resorts,  and  in 
addition  excellent  nine-hole  golf-links  have  been 
laid  out  and  are  now  available  for  players.  These 
are  the  only  links  in  Spain,  where  the  game  has 
been  practically  unknown. 


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Ji,t*^i'*f,(t. 


THE  TORRE  DE  HERCULES,  CORUNNA 


CHAP.  X 
CORUNNA 
AND  ITS 
HERO 


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CHAPTER  X 

CORUNNA  AND  ITS  HERO 

A    CENTURY    has    passed    since    Sir    John    Moore, 

mortally  wounded  on  the  heights  of  Corunna,  was 

carried    from    the    battlefield    and    buried   on    the 

ramparts.      Corunna    to-day     is    a    busy,   thriving 

seaport,   and     has     much     that     will    attract    the 

visitor'^s    attention.        There    are    the    quaint  old 

twisted    streets,   typical  of    Galician    towns,   where 

you    may    imagine    yourself  back   in    the   days   of 

that  immense  Armada  which  sailed  from  the  deep, 

wide  harbour  to  vanquish  England,  and  can  picture 

Drake's  swoop  on  the  Galician  coast  ten  years  after 

the  British  navy  had  shattered  the  fleet  which  had 

been  so  proudly  called  Most  Happy  and  Invincible. 

When     the     Armada     left     Lisbon     it     consisted 

of  nearly  130   ships,    with   an    aggregate   tonnage 

of   58,000,  carrying    2400   guns,    about    20,000 

soldiers,    8000  mariners,  and  over  2000   rowers — 

30,000  in    all.     Some    of  the   ships  proved  leaky 

and     were     badly     found,     and    owing     to     heavy 

weather    the    Armada     was     forced     to     put    into 

Corunna     for     shelter.       Enormous    quantities     of 

181 


^  t 


^.  i 


182 


A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 


provisions  had  been  thrown  overboard  because 
they  were  bad,  and  there  was  not  enough  water 
to  drink.  Pestilence,  too,  had  carried  off  many 
of  the  sailors  and  soldiers.  The  huge  fleet  finally 
left  Corunna  on  July  12,  1588,  and  by  that  time 
death  and  sickness  had  reduced  the  strength  of 
the  fighters  to  24,000. 

Modem  Corunna  has  its  great  tobacco  factory, 
employing  several  thousands  of  women  and  girls, 
fine  ornamental  grounds,  statues,  and  public  build- 
ings. These  may  command  only  passing  notice, 
though  greater  attention  will  be  given  to  the  mule- 
drawn  trams  and  the  diligences  which  run  regularly 
between  Corunna  and  the  surrounding  towns  and  vil- 
lages. Nothing  can  more  clearly  give  an  idea  of  what 
primitive  travelling  in  Galicia  means  than  to  watch 
the  diligence  from  Ferrol,  Finisterre,  or  Santiago 
drive  up  with  jingling  bells  and  cracking  of  whips, 
to  put  down  weary  passengers,  and,  the  horses 
having  been  unharnessed,  to  see  the  oxen  draw  the 
coach  to  its  departure-place.  There  are  to  be 
seen,  too,  the  miradoreSy  glazed  frontages  for  which 
Corunna  is  celebrated.  These  vast  stretches  of  win- 
dows protect  the  houses  from  the  strong  winds 
m  winter  and  form  bright  and  warm  interior 
verandahs.  Most  of  the  modern  houses  in  Galicia 
have  these  glass-protected  verandahs  in  the  top 
story,  where,  in  winter,  the  greater  part  of  the 
inhabitants'  spare  time  is  spent.  The  glazed  exterior 
allows  the  heat  of  the  sun  to  be  retained,  and  com- 
pensates for  the  absence  of  fires.     Corunna  differs 


CORITNNA  AND  ITS  HERO  1^ 

from  other  Galician  towns  in  having  not  only  many 
more  modern  buildings,  but  also  in  providing  all  the 
stories  with  the  rmradores.  The  streets  are  lively 
and  busy,  and  some  of  the  shops  are  very  interesting. 
There  are  several  good  cafes. 

There  is  the  harbour,  with  its  shipping,  the 
magnificent  scenery,  the  cemetery — worth  a  visit  by 
those  who  wish  to  compare  the  Spanish  mode  of 
burial  with  the  English — and  the  famous  light- 
house which  is  called  La  Torre  de  Hercules. 
Corunna  exports  great  quantities  of  onions  and 
sardines,  chiefly  to  America,  and  in  the  streets  you 
may  see  enormous  loads  of  the  vegetable  being 
taken  to  the  quays  for  shipment.  But  to  the 
ordinary  visitor  the  ramparts  and  the  heights  of 
Elvifia  are  the  great  attractions,  for  on  the  one 
Sir  John  Moore  is  buried,  and  on  the  other  he 
made  his  last  stand  in  that  retreat  which  for 
sufferings  and  horror  was  not  equalled  by  any  of 
the  Peninsular  campaigns. 

It  was  at  Corunna  that  the  Duke  of  Wellington, 
then  Lieutenant-General  Sir  Arthur  Wellesley, 
landed  on  July  20,  1808,  when  he  entered  the 
Peninsula  to  begin  and  see  to  a  triumphant  finish 
the  war  which  lasted  six  years  and  gave  to  England 
an  unparalleled  series  of  victories.  The  French 
by  that  time  were  masters  of  Spain,  and  it  was 
Wellesley's  purpose  to  free  the  country  from 
Napoleon''s  tyranny.  The  Spaniards  had  risen 
against  their  conquerors,  and  Wellesley  found  that 
"  no  one  dared  to  show  that  he  was  a  friend  to  the 


11 


184 


A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 


French.''  The  Gallegans,  brave  and  patriotic, 
clamoured  for  arms,  and  Wellesley  furnished  the 
Junta  of  Galicia  with  ^^200,000  and  promised 
the  immediate  despatch  of  military  stores.  He 
sailed  from  Corunna  on  the  night  of  the  21st, 
and  joined  the  fleet  of  transports  and  convoys 
next  day.  On  the  24th  he  reached  Oporto  in 
the  Crocodile.  A  few  days  later  the  troops  landed, 
*'  each  with  one  shirt  and  one  pair  of  shoes  besides 
those  on  them,  combs,  razor,  and  a  brush,  which 
are  to  be  packed  up  in  their  greatcoats.""  The 
men  landed  with  three  days'  bread  and  two  days 
meat,  cooked.  Three  weeks  ^fter  leaving  Corunna 
Wellesley  won  his  first  victory  over  the  French,  at 
Roleia,  with  a  loss  on  his  own  side  of  nearly  500 
killed  and  wounded  and  on  the  French  of  1500. 
The  opening  shots  of  the  war  were  fired  by  riflemen 
of  the  60th,  now  the  King's  Royal  Rifle  Corps, 
and  the  95th,  now  the  Rifle  Brigade.  The  Rifle 
Corps  has  no  fewer  than  sixteen  Peninsular  battle 
honours,  won  by  the  famous  5th,  or  Jager,  Bat- 
talion— foreigners,  mostly  Germans,  who  were  in 
British  pay.  Since  its  origin  in  1800  the  Rifle 
Brigade  has  been  composed  entirely  of  British 
troops.  Throughout  the  war  Wellington  found 
these  riflemen  of  the  utmost  service,  and  he  fre- 
quently spoke  of  them  in  terms  of  praise. 

Moore's  retreat  to  Corunna  was  a  tragedy  from 
start  to  finish.  Spain  was  in  what  appeared  to 
be  a  hopeless  state,  and  of  all  its  provinces  none 
was   more    severely   harassed    than   Galicia.       War 


CORUNNA  AND  ITS  HERO  /T85 

had   impoverished   an   already   poor  and   burdened 
country,  and  there  were  none  of  the  resources  available 
which  are  needed  for  the  successful  conduct  of  a 
great  campaign.     In  1807  the  French  army  entered 
Spain,    and    early    in    the    following    year  Madrid 
was   captured    by    the    conquering   legions    of   the 
Emperor.      For  a  few  weeks  only  the  visitors  re- 
mained  in   peaceful   possession ;  then   there   was  a 
rising   in   the   capital,  which   began   the   long   and 
bloody   fight   to   master   Bonaparte.       On   May   2, 
1808,  the  French  troops  and  the  Spanish  populace 
came  into  conflict,  and  for  nearly  three  hours  there 
was  incessant  firing  and  slaughter,  and  many  acts 
were    done    which    have    become    famous    amongst 
many  famous    deeds.      A   musket    had    been    fired 
from  one   of  the  houses,  and   a  mameluke  dashed 
into   the  building.      He   was   slain   by  a  beautiful 
girl,  and  she,  in  turn,  was  instantly  cut  down  by 
the   assailant's  comrades.      A   huntsman,   who    was 
celebrated  as  a  marksman,  fired  twenty-eight  cart- 
ridges against  the   French,   bringing   down   a  man 
with   each.       He  maintained   his   deadly  fire  until 
his  ammunition  was  finished  ;    then,  arming    him- 
self with   a   dagger,  he  hurled  himself  against  his 
foes,  and  was  killed  as  he  struck  at  them. 

That  outrage  in  Madrid  let  loose  the  pent-up 
passions  of  the  Spaniards.  They  had,  in  the  lonely 
hills  and  valleys  of  their  country,  many  chances 
of  retaliation,  and  they  showed  no  mercy  to  the 
Frenchmen  who  became  their  prisoners.  Even  the 
sick   and   the   medical    attendants  were  butchered, 


'. » 


ii 


186 


A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 


CORUNNA  AND  ITS  HERO 


187 


and  some  were  done  to  death  with  incredible 
barbarity.  A  French  officer  was  returning  from  a 
peaceful  mission  into  Portugal,  unconscious  of  the 
fact  that  hostilities  had  broken  out.  He  was 
unarmed  and  unattached  to  a  military  force  ;  but 
he  was  a  Frenchman,  and  that  was  looked  upon  by 
his  captors  as  proof  sufficient  for  his  doom.  The 
Spaniards  seized  and  mutilated  him ;  then,  having 
secured  him,  still  living,  between  two  planks,  they 
sawed  him  asunder. 

In  the  autumn  of  1808  Moore  had  taken  com- 
mand of  the  army  in  Portugal,  and  had  marched 
into  Spain  to  drive  out  Napoleon,  who  had  sworn 
that  he  himself  would  become  the  king  of  that 
country.  Unexpectedly  encountering  overwhelm- 
ing forces  under  Marshal  Soult,  Moore  recognised 
that  his  only  hope  of  salvation  lay  in  retreat,  and 
accordingly  he  resolved  to  fall  back  on  Vigo  and 
embark  his  army  in  the  transports  which  had 
been  ordered  to  assemble  there  to  meet  him. 
Circumstances  compelled  him  to  alter  his  plans, 
and  finally  to  resolve  to  get  on  board  ship  at 
Corunna. 

Moore  had  rapidly  covered  400  miles  on  his 
way  from  Portugal  to  Spain,  and  found  himself 
in  Galicia.  There  he  learned  that  his  allies,  the 
Spaniards,  had  been  routed  and  dispersed.  Anxious 
to  avoid  confusion  and  unnecessary  calls  on  an 
impoverished  country,  he  entreated  the  Spaniards 
not  to  fall  back  in  the  same  direction  as  himself; 
but  they  did  not  accede  to  his  wishes,  and  the  result 


was  a  hopeless  overcrowding  of  the  houses  on  the 
line  of  retreat,  and  a  call  on  the  resources  of  the 
land  which  could  not  be  met. 

Officers  and  men  who  fought  in  the  Peninsula 
and  shared  in  the  sufferings  of  that  appalling 
retreat  to  Corunna  have  put  on  record  vivid 
pictures  of  the  terrible  state  of  Moore's  army. 
When  he  reached  Benavente  he  sent  General 
Crauford  with  3000  men  by  way  of  Orense,  nearly 
a  hundred  and  forty  miles  away,  which  offered  a 
shorter  but  harder  road  to  the  coast. 

Moore's  purpose  was  to  prevent  the  French  from 
securing  an  advantage  over  him  by  employing  a 
light  column.  He  himself  took  the  longer  but 
better  road  which  led  through  Astorga  and  Villa 
Franca.  At  Astorga  he  was  joined  by  Baird's 
division,  and  Moore  ordered  the  destruction  of 
everything  which  could  check  his  retreat. 

The  rainy  season  had  been  succeeded  by  heavy 
falls  of  snow,  for  Moore  was  high  in  the  hills,  and 
the  cold  was  intense,  while  the  roads  and  fields  by 
which  he  had  to  march  were  almost  impassable. 
By  that  time  the  condition  of  the  army  was  pitiful. 
Typhus  fever  swept  through  the  ranks,  and  the 
roads  were  dotted  with  dead  and  dying  men  and 
women  and  children.  In  those  days  women  were 
allowed  to  accompany  British  soldiers  to  war,  and 
Moore  had  even  a  larger  proportion  than  usual  with 
him.  The  privations  of  the  women  and  children 
remain  as  the  most  terrible  feature  of  a  retreat 
which  stands  almost  unparalleled  for  suffering  and 


*.  \ 


188 


A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 


CORUNNA  AND  ITS  HERO 


189 


loss.  There  was  no  ammunition  for  the  guns,  none 
for  the  muskets,  and  the  soldiers  were  almost  un- 
shod and  in  rags.  In  this  respect  there  was  little 
difference  between  the  pursuing  French  and  the 
retreating  English. 

At  the  beginning  of  December  Moore  had 
20,000  men  under  him,  and  he  was  relentlessly 
followed  by  an  enemy  in  overwhelming  force.  Men 
and  horses  fell  and  died  on  the  march,  and  day  by 
day  the  flying  army  had  had  its  strength  reduced 
by  death  and  desertion.  Whole  regiments  forsook 
their  colours  and  defied  authority,  in  spite  of  the 
punishment  of  death  which  was  imposed  for  dis- 
obedience and  drinking.  Whenever  a  wine-house 
was  reached  the  soldiers  raided  it,  and  forgot  their 
misery  in  debauchery. 

The  main  body  of  the  army  kept  a  day'*s  march 
ahead  of  the  reserve  and  the  rearguard.  On 
New  Year"'s  morning  1809  the  main  body  reached 
Bembibra,  and  immediately  assailed  the  wine- 
shops. So  hopelessly  drunk  were  many  of  the 
troops  when  the  rearguard  came  up  that  it  was 
impossible  to  arouse  them  to  a  sense  of  their  peril 
from  the  French  cavalry  who  were  Harassing  their 
rear,  and  they  had  to  be  left  behind  in  great 
numbers.  By  that  time  the  opposing  armies  had 
been  marching  within  sight  of  each  other  for  many 
miles,  and  the  French  horsemen  swept  on  the  drunken 
mob  and  butchered  it.  Soult's  dragoons  thundered 
in  amongst  the  helpless  crowd  of  British  troops 
and    shrieking    women  and  children,    and    without 


distinction  of  sex  or  age  put  them  to  the  swotd. 
A  few  soldiers,  mangled  and  bleeding,  escaped 
from  the  massacre,  and  Moore  ordered  that  they 
should  parade  through  the  ranks  and  show  their 
wounds — a  stern  warning  to  the  army  of  the 
effect  of  drink  and  disobedience. 

Believing  that  Astorga  would  be  a  resting- 
place,  the  retreating  army  had  kept  up  something 
like  order,  and  had  been  inspired  by  the  hope  of 
battle ;  but  there  was  no  rest.  Again  everything 
that  was  burdensome  was  abandoned,  and  the 
terrible  withdrawal  was  continued. 

"From  that  hour,''  said  Lord  Londonderry, 
"we  no  longer  resembled  a  British  army.  There 
was  still  the  same  bravery  in  our  ranks,  but  it 
was  only  at  moments,  when  the  enemy  was  ex- 
pected to  come  on,  that  our  order  and  regularity 
returned,  and  except  in  that  single  point  we 
resembled  rather  a  crowd  of  insubordinate  rebels  in 
full  flight  before  victorious  soldiers  than  a  corps  of 
British  troops  moving  in  the  presence  of  an  enemy." 
Moore  himself,  in  the  last  despatch  he  ever  wrote, 
said  he  could  not  have  believed  that  such  com- 
plete demoralisation  could  have  overtaken  a  British 
army. 

Marvellous  distances  were  traversed,  notwith- 
standing the  difficult  country  and  the  bitter 
weather.  Villa  Franca  was  reached  on  January  2, 
after  sixty  miles  had  been  covered  in  two  days. 
One  march  alone  represented  forty  miles,  but  that 
was   continued  by  night  as  well  as  day,  and  was 


■•,  • 


11 


190 


A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 


; 


marked  by  the  abandonment  of  the  dying  and  the 
dead.  The  troops  dropped  by  whole  sections  on 
the  road  and  died.  "  Not  men  only,""  wrote  Lord 
Londonderry,  "but  women  and  children  were  sub- 
ject to  this  miserable  fate.  Moore''s  army  had 
carried  along  with  it  more  than  the  too  large 
proportion  of  women  allotted  by  the  rules  of  the 
service  to  armies  in  the  field,  and  these  poor 
wretches  now  heightened  the  horror  of  passing 
events  by  a  display  of  suffering  even  more  acute 
than  that  endured  by  their  husbands.  Some  were 
taken  in  labour  on  the  road,  and  in  the  open  air, 
amid  showers  of  sleet  and  snow,  gave  birth  to 
infants  which,  with  their  mothers,  perished  as  soon 
as  they  had  seen  the  light.  Others,  carryings  some 
of  them,  two  children  on  their  backs,  toiled  on,  and, 
when  they  came  to  look  to  the  condition  of  their 
burdens,  they  would  probably  find  one  or  both 
frozen  to  death." 

Guns,  waggons,  and  even  treasure  were  abandoned 
on  that  fatal  road.  Dollars  to  the  value  of  twenty- 
five  thousand  pounds,  which  were  in  two  bullock-carts, 
could  not  be  drawn  any  farther  by  the  exhausted 
oxen,  and  the  casks  containing  the  coins  were  stove 
in,  and  the  money  thrown  over  a  precipice.  Some 
of  the  ragged,  starving  soldiers  lagged  behind  to 
seize  the  money,  and  perished  either  by  the  French 
sabres  or  the  winter's  cold.  Sick  and  wounded 
were  abandoned  in  the  waggons ;  and  at  last,  on 
January  11,  the  worn  and  famishing  survivors  of 
the  flying  army  reached  the  village  of  Elvina,  on 


i 


I 


-  Q 

f^  o 


O 


o  ^ 


CORUNNA  AND  ITS  HEEO  191 

the  heights  of  Corunna,  about  two  miles  from  the 

town. 

Moore  went  into  Corunna  and  took  up  lodgings 
in  a  little  house  facing  the  bay,  and  directed  the 
embarkation  of  his  fugitives  in  the  transports, 
which  arrived  from  Vigo  on  the  14th. 

The  French  did  not  molest  the  embarkation 
for  two  days,  but  on  the  16th  they  advanced, 
20,000  strong,  to  assault  the  14,000  who  alone 
remained  of  Moore's  worn-out  troops.  He  had 
done  his  best  to  bring  his  sorry  remnant  to  the 
coast,  and  he  had  triumphed.  Now,  at  the  end 
of  his  retreat,  he  showed  the  superior  French  force 
that  as  a  fighter  he  was  as  dangerous  as  ever.  He 
destroyed  bridges  and  ammunition,  and  blew  up 
4000  barrels  of  gunpowder — an  explosion  which 
wrecked  all  the  windows  in  Corunna — and  used 
every  artifice  he  knew  to  prevent  either  his  men 
or  his  materiel  from  falling  into  the  hands  of 
his  foe.  It  seemed  as  if  even  now,  at  the  end  of 
his  tribulation,  the  British  chief  would  get  away 
from  Spain ;  but  Soult  forced  him  at  the  very  last 
to  give  battle,  and  on  January  16,  1809:  the  worn 
and  harassed  leader,  from  a  piece  of  rocky  ground 
at  Elvina,  just  beyond  the  village,  directed  the 
battle  which,  beginning  at  about  two  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon,  continued  furiously  till  darkness  fell. 

Time  after  time  the  Frenchmen  charged  the 
shattered  remnant  of  the  hero's  force  ;  but  as  often 
as  they  advanced  they  were  driven  back  and 
broken  by  the   men  who,  with  all  their  faults  of 


\ » 


192 


A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 


CORUNNA  AND  ITS  HERO 


193 


w 


drink  and  insubordination,  knew  how  to  fight  and 
conquer. 

All  through  the  terrible  retreat  the  British 
soldier's  prayer  had  been  for  a  battle,  and  now  that 
his  supplication  was  answered  he  proved  himself  a 
true  son  of  his  country.  Not  even  Soulfs  genius 
and  the  valour  of  his  overwhelming  forces  could 
master  the  stubborn,  sullen  troops  who  held  the 
little  church  and  streets  of  Elvina.  Napoleon''s 
veterans  were  driven  back,  and  when  the  day  gave 
place  to  night  his  famous  marshal  knew  that  the 
army  which  he  had  harassed  and  pursued  for  so 
many  bitter  days  would  escape. 

Twice,  with  frantic  valour,  the  French  had  taken 
the  village,  and  twice  they  had  been  hurled  out  of 
it  at  the  point  of  the  bayonet  by  the  Guards, 
Highlanders,  and  linesmen  under  Moore.  He  had 
covered  his  amazing  retreat  with  a  triumphant 
victory  ;  but  in  the  very  moment  of  success  he  was 
struck  down  by  a  cannon-ball,  which  shattered  his 
left  shoulder, 

Moore  fell  from  his  horse,  his  arm  hanging  only 
by  a  piece  of  skin,  and  his  breast  bared  to  the 
lungs.  Some  soldiers  took  him  up  and  put  him, 
conscious  still,  into  a  blanket,  and  bore  him  from 
the  field  of  battle  to  his  lodgings.  He  knew  that 
the  French  were  beaten,  and,  turning  to  an  old 
friend,  he  said  :  ''  You  know  that  I  always  wished  to 
die  this  way.**'  He  lingered  for  a  few  hours  at 
his  lodgings,  and  just  before  he  passed  away  he 
murmured :  "  I  hope  the  people  of  England  will  be 


satisfied.  I  hope  my  country  will  do  me  justice.*" 
It  was  almost  a  repetition  of  the  glorious  death 
of  Nelson  in  Trafalgar  Bay,  600  miles  below 
Corunna,  on  the  Atlantic  Coast,  only  three  years 
earlier. 

The  embarkation  was  still  in  progress  and  the 
French  guns  were  booming  as  the  valiant  British 
rearguard  filed  in  silence  to  the  beach.  The 
victorious  general  died  while  the  transports  were 
receiving  the  troops,  and,  wrapped  only  in  his 
military  cloak,  he  was  borne  by  men  of  the  9th 
Foot,  now  the  Norfolk  Regiment,  to  the  hastily 
dug  grave  on  the  ramparts,  where  he  was 
buried,  his  farewell  volleys  coming  from  the 
distant  artillery.  The  officers'  silk  sashes  with 
which  the  body  of  the  beloved  commander  was 
lowered  into  the  grave,  and  the  prayer-book  used  at 
the  hasty  funeral  service,  are  preserved  in  the  Royal 
United  Service  Institution  Museum,  Whitehall. 
When  Moore  was  first  laid  to  rest  the  ramparts 
were  little  more  than  a  wilderness.  Soon  after 
the  burial  the  body  was  exhumed  and  placed 
where  it  now  is.  The  grave  is  made  of  Galician 
granite,  the  urn  above  is  of  white  stone,  and 
common  stone  was  used  in  the  construction  of  the 
enclosure. 

The  British  victors  sailed  from  Corunna,  having 
spiked  their  guns  and  buried  them  in  the  sand,  and 
when  the  French  at  last  entered  the  town  even  the 
sick  and  wounded  had  been  taken  safely  off  to  sea. 

Corunna  cost    Moore    nearly  a    thousand    men. 

N 


",  • 


li'l 


It  t 


194  A  CORNER  OF  SPAIN 

The  French  suffered  far  more  heavily.  During 
the  retreat  the  British  casualties  were  6000, 
including  deserters  and  stragglers,  of  whom  800 
escaped  into  Portugal.  Three  hundred  men 
were  drowned  in  the  wrecks  of  two  transports  ott 
the  English  coast,  and  many  died  of  disease  after 

landing.  ,  ^     , 

Moore  wished  to  be  buried  near  the  spot  where 
he  died,  and  his  grave  is  only  a  short  walk  from  his 
last    quarters.     The  brave   and   noble    Soult  paid 
homacre  to  the  hero  who  had  perished  in  the  hour 
of   triumph.     A    French    gun    is    planted,  muzzle 
downward,  in    each    comer  of   the  enclosure,   and 
palm-trees  rise  gracefully  from  the   soil.       A  few 
yards   away    you    may    look    through    the   ruined 
embrasures  and  see  the  heights  of  Elvina  and  the 
Atlantic    into  which    the    survivors    of   the    great 
retreat  were  sailing  while   their  fallen  leader  was 
being  lowered  to  his  resting-place  upon  Corunna's 
ramparts. 


SIR  JOHN  MOORE'S  TO.Ml!  AT  CORUXXA 


ir 


II 


CORUNXA   IIAV,  FROM  THE  RAMPARTS 


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O     R    T     u     G 


INDEX 


INDEX 

Alfonso  XIL,  59 

Alps,  The,  compared  with  Galician  Hills,  27 

Ambrose,  The  R.M.S.,  51 

Animals,  Wild,  in  Galicia,  27 

Antony,  The  R.M.S.,  37 

Arcos,  Balanced  stone  of,  148 

Argentina  and  Gallegans,  18 

Armada,  The  Spanish,  and  Corunna,  14,  25 

Arosa  Bay,  15,  l67 

Art,  Works  of,  in  Galicia,  43 

Bayona,  118 

Betanzos,  26,  116,  130 

Booth  Steamship  Co.,  Ltd.,  The,  47,  91,  117,  130 

Borrow  and  Vigo,  67;   his  remarks  on  robbers,  105; 

his  advice  with  regard  to  Spanish,  107  ;  his  descrip- 

tion  of  Ferrol,  112 
Bouillabaisse,  S6 
Breakfast  in  Galicia,  S5 

Caaveiro,  Valley  of,  ll6 
Caballero,  The,  S2,  38,  53,  136 
Caldas,  l69 
Caldo  Gallego,  36 

197 


U 


\\ 


198  INDEX 

Cambados,  174 

Cangas,    The  fishing-town  of,  6l ;    ghastly  festival  at, 

62 
Castilla  del  Castro,  55 
Castle  Mos,  59 
Cattle  markets,  41 
Censer,  The  Giant,  84 
Cies  Islands,  The,  51,  57,  67 
Civil  Guard,  The,  32,  105 
Clavijo,  The  battle  of,  26 
Climate,  9 
Clubs  in  Galicia,  47 
Columbus  and  Galicia,  13,  25,  172 
Commercial  travellers,  136 
Convent,  A,  l68 
Cortegada,  15,  l68 

Corunna,  Fishwives    of,  32;    Corunna,    Mcdern,   182; 
Moore  s    retreat    to,   184;    privations   during  the 
retreat,  184;    battle  of,   191;    losses   during  the 
retreat,  194 
Cottages  of  Galicia,  41 
Cuntis,  169 
Cycling,  138 

Danish  butter.  Use  of,  in  Galicia,  38 
Dejeuner  in  Galicia,  36 
Diligence,  The,  127 
Drake  and  Galicia,  79,  96 
Dwarfs,  Dance  of,  90 

ELVifiiA,  183,  191 

Emigration  from  Galicia,  7,  65 


INDEX  199 

Ferrol,    description    of,   112;    British    enterprise    at, 

114 
Finisterre,  Battles  off,  111 
Fish  and  vegetable  markets,  5S 
Flowers  in  Galicia,  9 
Ford,  Richard,  26 
Frontier,  The,  120 
Funeral,  A  Russian  sailor's,  64  ;  a  peasant's,  l63 

Galicia  an  historic  ground  for  Englishmen,  13;  the 
progress  of,  15  ;  hotel  accommodation  in,  20;  the 
coast-line  of,  25 ;  floods  in,  27 ;  security  of  travel 
in,  33  ;  chambermaids  and  waiters  of,  34 

Gallegans,  The,  6;  shyness  of,  17;  character  of,  18; 
their  martial  valour,  19;  their  alleged  stupidity, 
19 ;  food  and  drink  of  the,  29 ;  Gallegans  and 
Portuguese  farming,  l6 

Gate  of  Glory,  The,  81 

Giants,  Dance  of,  90 

Gold,  Annual  gift  of,  by  King  of  Spain,  89 

Golf-links,  177 

Hair,  strange  mode  of  dressing  the,  l60 

Inns  of  Galicia,  103 

Ireland,  Galicia  compared  with,  18 

Junta  of  Galicia,  The,  1 84 

King's  Royal  Rifle  Corps,  The,  184 


r 


200  INDEX 

Lager  beer,  Spanish,  37  ,  „..  i    4- 

La  Toja,  The  Island  of,  15,  174;  the  Grand  Hotel  at, 

l6,  175 ;  the  mud  and  springs  of,  176 
Lerez,  The  River,  173 
Londonderry,  Lord,  and  Corunna,  189, 190 
Los  Dominicos,  Convent  of,  122 

Madrid,  The  rising  in,  185  ,  o^ 

Maize,  drying  of,  30 ;  maize-bread,  8,  29 ;  maize-bams,  30 

Marin,  l62 

Mass,  High,  celebration  of,  84 

Mifio,  The  River,  1,  4,  5,  27;  the  bridge  over  the,  120 

Miradores  at  Corunna,  The,  182 

Mondariz,  the  hotel  at,  l6,  145;  the  waters  of,  144; 

new  pump-room  at,  147 
Moore,  Sir  John,  death  of,  192  ;  burial  of,  193 
Moors,  The,  and  Galicia,  26 
Motor-cars,  133 

Night- Watchmen,  The,  31 

Orense,  123 

Pardo  Bazan,  The  Countess  of,  17 
Phoenicians,  The,  and  Galicia,  26 
Photography,  44 
Pigeon-cots,  30 
Pigs  in  Galicia,  40 
Pilgrims  and  Freebooters,  11 
Policemen  of  Galicia,  The,  32,  33 
Ponies,  129 


\\ 


INDEX  201 

Pontevedra,  12,  13;   the  serefio  of,  31  ;  the  people  of, 

172 
Porrino,  104 

Press  of  Galicia,  The,  66 
Puenteareas,  66 
Puentedeume,  116 
Pulteney*s  expedition,  114 

Railways  in  Galicia,  129 

Ramallosa,  118 

Rande,  The  Strait  of,  58 

Redondela,  Bridges  at,  65 

Ribadavia,  122 

Roleia,  The  Battle  of,  1 84 

Romans,  The,   and  Galicia,  26;  Roman   ploughs,  53; 

Roman  remains,  l68 
Rosary,  The  Festival  of  Our  Lady  of  the,  86 

Saint  James  and  El  Padron,  10,  171  ;  killed  by  Herod, 
71  ;  his  staff,  84;  and  military  stronghold,  113 

Salvatierra,  122 

San  Benito,  The  village  of,  101 

San  Domingo,  The  Convent  of,  at  Pontevedra,  172 

San  Simon,  The  Island  of,  56 

Santiago,  The  road  of,  10;  the  streets  of,  12  ;  scallop- 
shells  at,  12,  95 ;  founding  of,  71 ;  pilgrims  to,  72, 
91  ;  the  bells  of,  73,  90;  history  of,  74;  students 
at,  75;  the  Cathedral  of,  76;  the  treasury,  77;  St. 
James's  figure,  79  ;  the  compostella,  80 ;  the  sepul- 
chre of  St.  James,  81  ;  the  Gate  of  Glory,  81  ;  the 
giant  censer,  84 ;  the  Church  of  San  Martin,  86 ; 

o 


ii  I' 


202  -         INDEX 

St.  James's  Festival.  88  ;  the  Royal  Hospital,  92  ; 
the  Cardinal's  Palace,  92  ,.      .  ^  ...„ 

Sardines,  54  :  Messrs.  Barrerasand  the  sardine  industry, 

63 
Scenery  in  Galicia,  149  ,     .,u  on 

Scottish  Highlands,  Galicia  compared  with,  20 

Sereno,  The,  SI 

Seven  Sisters,  The,  52  .     ^  ,.  •     ., 

Smoking-carriages,  131 ;  smoking  m  Galicia,  43 

Sobroso,  The  Castle  of,  149 

Soult,  Marshal,  186,  191,  194 

SportinGalicia,  27,  176 

Street  of  the  Hundred  Maidens,  The,  2b 

Sunday  evening  in  Galicia,  102 

Tea,  The  River,  146,  148 
Telegraphy  in  Galicia,  42 
Thackeray  and  Bouillabaisse,  36 
Tourists  and  Galicia,  39 
Trains,  slowness  of  Galician,  132 
Travel,  security  of,  105 
Treasure  ships  and  Vigo,  57 
Tuy,  4,  119 

Umia,  The  River,  170 

the  municipality  of,  55  ;  warships  at,  63 

Villa  Garcia,  l67 
Villeneuve,  Admiral,  115 
Vineyards,  granite  posts  in,  28 


INDEX 

Waiter,  The  Galician,  37 
Washing  in  Galicia,  ]6l 
Wellington  and  Corunna,  183 
Wines  of  Galicia,  The,  46 
Women  of  Galicia  as  workers,  156 


20S 


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